Ith How the World Crumbles
by Pseudo Twili
Summary: When the two sides of the coin meet, many lives crumble and are tossed into chaos. The land is covered with a heavy pall under the hands of the usurper and the princess is exiled away. The task of mending the rift and bringing light back to the world falls to a kind-hearted boy beloved by his village, while his companion is a cursed girl thrust from her world and bent on vengeance.
1. A Tale Long Past

_This is a novelization of Twilight Princess, which is my most favorite game of all time. I only hope I can do justice to such a spectacular game of a wonderful series. The Legend of Zelda obviously belongs to Nintendo. Without them I would never have been inspired to write this._

* * *

 **Ith How the World Crumbles - by Pseudo Twili**

Chapter 1: A Tale Long Past

"Long ago, when my great-great-great-grandmother was a little girl, there came to this village a warrior who asked for shelter for the night. You know it is our custom never to turn away someone in need and my great-great-grandmother's parents and the others let him stay in that abandoned house at the edge of town. He went out and shot some rabbits, which he then cooked for his supper. My great-grandmother smelled the meat as it sizzled over the fire and she went closer. She was afraid to go much nearer, but she was also very curious. Then the warrior saw her looking at him from her place behind a tree and she nearly ran away, but he beckoned to her. What would you children have done in her place?"

"I'd offer him my mummy's soup!"

"I'd've run away fast as I could! No offense to Mr. Rusl, but guys with big swords scare me!"

"Hmm… I dunno know what I'd do. Was he dangerous?"

"My mother told me never to speak to strangers, so I wouldn't have gone near him."

"I think… I would have liked to talk to him."

"Ahahaha! Well, my grandmother was more afraid of displeasing him than anything else, so she drew nearer and got an eyeful. He was very good-looking, but she felt sorry for him because he looked so tired, as if he had all the burdens of the world resting on his shoulders. One eye was covered with a patch; there were streaks of gray in his hair and wrinkles of worry in his face that did not belong on a man as young as he.

"'Why do you stare at me so?' he asked sadly. 'Does my face scare you?'

"'No,' she replied. 'I think it is a very kind face. You look as though you've helped a lot of people and you're very tired because you've been so busy.'

"And what do you suppose happened then?"

The children didn't know; some of them were afraid of how the story was turning out and didn't dare make a guess. They fixed their storyteller with the intensely wide eyes of enchantment.

"Was he glad to have someone understand him?" asked one voice, very quietly.

"That's right. The warrior's face softened so much that my great-great-grandmother thought he was going to cry. Only one tear sparkled in the corner of his eye as he invited her to sit with him. He gave her a bit of meat, which she found to be delicious, told her lighthearted stories of his travels and adventures, and even made her giggle. She was very sorry when she heard her mother calling her, for she had grown to like the strange man.

"She pouted and said, 'Will I see you again?'

"'I do not know. Fate may decree that our paths cross once again, or it may have other things in store for us. Even if we do not, I will always remember you as the little girl who saw through me to my sorry old heart.' And before she ran away to her home, he gave her a silver rupee and told her to cherish its worth."

"A silver rupee?! Wow! I wish I had one of those!"

"That was a pretty story! Did she ever see him again, Granny?"

"She did not. My great-great-great-great-grandmother waited expectantly for years and years, hoping that he would come back, but he never did."

"So, what did she do with the rupee?"

"She cherished it for years and though she vowed never to spend it, she eventually gave in when not only her own family, but the whole village was going through a very tough year. That rupee kept them from starving. Always after that she felt that somehow he had known of their future difficulty and had given it to her for just that purpose."

"I still don't understand why she talked to him at all. If it were me, I would have been too scared to go near someone with one eye!"

A new voice interrupted before any more discussion could break out; it belonged to a tall, big-boned woman whose manner was really gentler that she looked. "Come now, children, time to let Granny get some rest! Off with ya'll now!"

She shooed them toward the door; though the young ones wanted very much to hear another story, they didn't dare disobey Fado's mother, and they scuttled. The old lady, however, lifted her finger and beckoned one boy with shaggy, golden-brown hair that stuck out thickly and untidily all over his head.

"Yes, Granny?" he murmured as he drew near.

"You liked that story didn't you, Link?"

The five-year-old nodded and looked at her with such a serious expression written on his face that he didn't seem quite his age.

"I knew you did. I could see the interest shining in your eyes. You guessed very well, too. Come back again and I will tell you more stories, my lad."

"I will, Granny."

"You'd better go out and play now, before Omelie finds you are still here."

The little, white-haired lady leaned back in her crude rocker and closed her eyes while Link made all haste for the door. He breathed a little sigh of relief that Fado's mom hadn't caught him going out, and joined the other children. Ilia was riding her imaginary mount and all the while trying to convince Fado that it wasn't a log his dad had left in the yard with the intention of splitting, but a fine white horse who would take her anywhere she wanted. The cousins, Gilda and Hyram, were bickering over whether or not Hyram splashed mud on Gilda's fresh white shirt. He really had done it, but he liked teasing his 'girly cousin' and always made fun of her for being so stuck up. Her usual reply was that she had been to the city and she knew how to behave.

At eight years old, Hyram was the eldest of the children of Ordon Village. He always started out the day in clothes as neat as his cousin's, but work and play always reversed their state by sunset. He had dark, curly brown locks, wicked eyes the color of slate, a long sort of nose and thin lips, and though he was about average size, he liked to show off the slightly formed muscles in his arms. He was fairly well-behaved when the adults were around, and was old enough to help out with the crops, he had a distinctive propensity for lording his lofty age over the others. He seemed to think that everyone else was little better than babies and often let them know it. This attitude was sadly not helped by his parents and some of the other adults, who were always telling him to set a good example for the younger ones, seemingly because they didn't know any better.

As Link approached, the older boy left his cousin alone for the time and sauntered over. "Hey, Link!" he said, with an expression halfway between a scowl and sly grin. "What took you so long? Did Granny say something to you? You're not going to be selfish and keep it to yourself, are you?!"

The small child's eyes had been wandering on the distant hills and fields around the village; only reluctantly did he bring them back to fix Hyram in a gaze as blue and deep as summer skies. Somehow, the seriousness of those eyes nearly always unnerved the eight-year-old.

"She has lots of stories to tell us. She wants us to keep coming back for more," he replied and he couldn't keep the slight trace of a smile from creeping to his lips.

Try as he might, Hyram could never get a satisfactory rise out the younger boy; his childish teases slipped off Link rather like water from a duck's back. It drove him to distraction that Link seemed to know how immature he actually was and didn't think him important enough to give a satisfactory answer to his silly little taunts, which only made him try harder to irritate.

"Say, you don't really believe that story about the guy with the sword, do you?!" he demanded.

"Of courthe I do."

"Heh!" Hyram chortled. "It's just a fairy tale for impressionable,"—he used the big word with relish even though he knew not what it meant—"lithping little kids. She kept changing which great grandmother it happened to. I don't think it's true at all."

"But it IS true," Link retorted rather quietly, pronouncing the word very carefully. "Granny wouldn't lie."

When he was younger and still learning to talk, Link spoke with a bit of a lisp that the adults seemed to think was adorable. He'd grown out of it to a certain degree, but he still had the tendency to break out in the little impediment, much to his everlasting embarrassment. As young as he was, he was determined to break himself of the habit and when he confided in Granny she told him just what to do. He would often hide himself in a little corner with one of the few hand mirrors in the village and look at his mouth while practicing the words that gave him so much trouble. He tried not to let the others know how much it bothered him but he never quite succeeded in that endeavor.

"Are you saying Granny was lying?!" exclaimed seven-year-old Gilda, who had been bending one ear toward them and now drew daintily nearer her cousin.

The oldest child then realized he had stepped too far. They all knew better than to disrespect their elders, especially one as ancient as Fado's great grandmother; a misdemeanor such as that would be punished with a much dreaded spanking.

"No! No, I didn't say that!" cried he, backpedaling furiously.

But Gilda had him on the spot and so rarely did that occur that she would not let him go easily. "You said it wasn't true, Hy! That means you think she was lying! Or are you lying now? You're the liar! Liar, liar—"

"I am not! That's not what I meant! I only thought—" he glared at her and looked quite disagreeable. "It was hard to believe, okay?"

Because he did not wish to take part in the argument any more than he had, Link was very glad to slip away from the duo and to go over to the other two children. Ilia was still riding away on her imaginary mount, while Fado had been nervously casting looks over at the confrontation.

"Do you want to go look at the empty house?" the little boy asked, mostly because he was greatly intrigued by it after the story, and partly because he wished for distance between him and the squabbling.

"Ooh, yes!" cried the four-year-old and propelled herself from the huge log.

Because Link was standing so near, they both ended up in a heap, from which Fado helped them up good-naturedly. He was still some months away from being six years old but was nearly as big as Hyram; he was just a simple boy who preferred to follow where others led.

"You okay, Ilia?" he drawled. "You should be more careful…"

"I'm fine!" she declared. "C'mon!"

Without bothering to fix her mussed hair, she grabbed Link's hand and started to run on plump little legs for the clearing on the border of the village and the abandoned house that had stood there for what seemed an eternity, judging by its appearance. He stumbled a couple of times, but he didn't seem to mind being dragged along as he scrambled smilingly after her.

None of the children had paid especial attention to the unused house because there was no readily available way to enter it. It had apparently been hollowed out from a very huge tree; though not very tall it still exuded green leaves and growth in quite a few places. The extremely deteriorated door, barred with many slats of wood, was a good dozen feet off the ground, situated at a strange little shelf that the tree had created. If they craned their necks upward, they could see a bit of sloping roof from which most of the faded shingles had fallen, and a small aperture that, had it not been boarded up, might have provided them with a very slim look at the interior.

The three little ones stared at it with renewed interest. "Can we get inside?" Ilia asked excitedly, pulling again at her friend's hand. "I want to see the inside!"

Link wanted that very much, too; he was very curious to find out if there was anything in there that would absolutely prove the existence of that long-ago visitor. The problem was rather serious for a five year old to find a solution.

"C'mon, Link," she begged, forgetting what her mother told her about saying 'please'. "I want to see it!"

Both young boys tried as hard as they could to make her wish come true. Fado leaned against the tree trunk base of the house, while Link mounted a large stone nearby and tried to climb on his sturdy friend's shoulders. Even when he stretched as much as he could and made a little jump, his small fingers where still feet from the ledge. Ilia cheered them on impatiently.

"What are you kids doing?!" came another voice, also belonging to a child.

Fado was so startled that he lost his balance, and Link naturally tumbled down on top of him. The boy with golden-brown hair ignored the newcomer as he picked himself up and seriously contemplated the problem before him. If they could only bring a ladder over… But a ladder would be heavy. They would never be able to carry it and what would the adults say if they saw them taking an item like that?

Annoyed at being ignored, Hyram repeated himself, "I _said_ : 'What are you doing?'!"

Unable to contain her excitement, Ilia trotted closer and piped up, "We gonna get into the house!"

"Heh! You can't get in there! Can't you see the door's shut up tighter than my dad's cupboard?"

The little girl stuck out her tongue, turned her back on the older child and returned to the younger boys. "Isn't there some way to get in?" she pleaded.

"Hmm…?" was all a deeply concentrating Link replied.

"You guys are dumb. That door is way higher than you can reach," said Hyram, very unhelpfully. He grinned as he watched them.

Link suddenly turned his gaze around. "You could help us. Don't you want to see the inside of the house, too?"

"Nah, why should I? It's nothing but an empty house. I bet it's really moldy and dusty inside." Though he said one thing, the eight-year-old also harbored a secret desire to do just the opposite. Afraid that the others might guess it, he added, "I know it's really nasty and filled with spiders and cockroaches."

"How do you know?" cried little Ilia, bouncing back to him in a heartbeat. "Have you been in there?"

"Sure," Hyram lied. "One time I climbed up the tree 'cause I was chasing a squirrel. I found the board at the window up there was loose and I crawled in. I found something inside, too. Do you want to know what it was?"

Ilia nodded exuberantly and the oldest boy could tell that Link was listening with a cock of his pointed ear.

"Nah, I don't think I should tell you. You'd be scared!"

The small girl grabbed his arm. "Tell me! Tell me!"

"Okay, fine. What I found inside was a skeleton. Its arm was reaching for the door like it was trying to get out. Well, Link, that's probably what happened to your warrior. They locked him up in the house and left him to die!"

She cried, "Noo! Nooo!" and immediately began bawling.

Link was by her side in a heartbeat; he rubbed her back and soothed her gently. "Don't cry, Ilie! Ith not true anyway."

"It… It…isn't?" gasped she, gulping down a sob.

"It is too true!" exclaimed Hyram, indignant that the younger boy had seen through his story and also a bit worried that he'd made Ilia cry.

The five-year-old formed his words very carefully as he reassured his friend. "He just made it up because he was trying to scare us. There's nothing in there, except maybe thpiders."

Hyram looked very much like he wanted to slap him, and probably would have if a distraction, in the form of his cousin, came along as the smaller girl was wiping away her tears.

"Your mothers told me to tell you it's suppertime," said neat-as-a-pin Gilda, who had changed her shirt. She stood staring at the others, whose clothes and skin were rather dusty. "You'd better come right away because everyone is w—ah!"

She finished with a squeak, as her cousin had picked up a handful of dust and held it like he was going to pitch it in her direction; without wasting another moment, she turned tail and speedily, yet somehow gracefully hurried back to the heart of the village. Hyram threw down his handful of dirt with a sneer of disgust and stamped after her.

During spring, summer and fall, it was the customary habit that the ladies would prepare one huge meal and everyone would eat together under the sky, unless rain was falling, in which case they would crowd into one or more of the simple, rather crude little homes. The events were usually noisy, for this was a time to discuss the day and what needed doing on the morrow, and to enjoy the victuals, which were simple, but all the same quite wholesome and delicious. Even Granny, who was ninety-eight, refused to "miss out on all the fun"; she would always hobble from the house and sit in a place of honor by the fire, surrounded by beloved family and dear friends.

On this evening, as she sometimes did, she beckoned to Link to come and sit next to her; he trotted over, holding onto his bowl, trying unsuccessfully not to spill its delectable contents, and plopped down next to her.

"So what did you do after I told you that story this afternoon?" she asked him, fixing him with her perceptive old eyes.

"We went over to the houthe and Fado and I tried to get in," the boy replied, between inhaling a bite of stew.

"It's 'house', dearie."

He hadn't realized what he was saying and it caused him to blush. He repeated the word very carefully. "House. House. House. House."

"Very good. Now, what else did you do? I heard arguing in the yard. Was Hyram hassling you again?"

"Not really—" Slurp! "—he said the story you told us wathn't true because you were saying different numbers of great for your grandmother."

"That boy likes the sound of his voice too much for his own good! He'd say anything to get a rise out of a demon, just to get attention. What did you say to him?"

"I told him it is true. It is, isn't it, Granny?"

"It is, my dear boy. Truth is, I don't remember how many greats of a grandmother she was, but it really happened a long, long time ago."

Link beamed with soup dripping from his chin. He knew he'd been right but there had been a little worry tickling at the recesses of his mind. "Can you tell me another story?" he begged, and if his eyes had been brown instead of blue they would have looked just like those of the adorable village puppies when they were most beseeching.

"If I tell you one another one now, won't the other children be sorry that they missed out on it?"

The little boy with the brown-gold hair thought very carefully for a number of seconds before he made reply. "You could tell me now and again with the others. I love your stories, Granny! I like to hear them more than once!"

"Ohoho!" the old lady chuckled deep in her throat. "You know how to get to this ol' granny's heart! Very well! I will tell you of the adventure that my late husband—that would be your great-grandfather—and I had for those few years that we traveled. We were just coming into Hyrule Town when a man came running up to us and asked, 'Have you seen my boot?!' Just like that! 'Have you seen my boot?!' As if one could lose track of a boot as one would a child or a cat!"

Link laughed so hard throughout the story that he choked on his food and went into a coughing fit. Granny thumped him, albeit feebly, on the back and told him to take smaller bites. His problem was only compounded because he still couldn't stop giggling.

After supper was over and everyone was about to retire to their homes and go to bed, Hyram found Link alone, poking the embers of the big cooking fire with a stick.

"Hey!" said the older boy; he would have shouted, but he did not want to attract attention and it was right about bedtime for children especially. "What were you telling Granny during supper?!"

"Why?"

"Just tell me what you said!" Hyram hissed hurriedly.

"She asked me about what we did after we left her. You know what we did."

"But what did you tell her? Did you tell her what I said to Ilia?"

Link stiffened. "No. Why would I?"

"Good. Let's just keep it that way."

The older child grinned and sauntered away, a satisfied smirk upon his face. With a shrug, the young one went back to pleasurably poking the fire until his aunt Emeline called him.

"It's time for bed, Link!" she called cheerily and scooped up her giggling little daughter.

"But I'm not thleepy. I don't want to go to bed!"

Bo, the newly-made mayor of the village, was also headed inside. "Lad, you heard your aunt," he said, warningly.

The child gave the fire a couple more pokes and reluctantly followed them to the house. Before half an hour had passed, the lights peeking through somewhat shuttered windows were extinguished and calm blanketed the little village. The last thought of the little boy with golden-brown hair was, _I'm going to get into that_ house _tomorrow…_

~O~

Until he was well past his second birthday, Link had stayed with any of the women who could wet-nurse him, until he finally stopped nursing at age two and a half. When he was three, the adults put it to him to decide with whom he wanted to live. All the villagers loved him and would have welcomed him quite gladly into their homes; the small boy reciprocated these feelings and was very indecisive in the matter. In his very young, childish little heart, he felt that if he just chose one family the others would feel hurt and he could not bear the thought. He moped around the rest of the day, trying to make up his mind and being unable to do so.

Granny said to him, "What do you want, Link? Just listen to your heart, my laddie. Who would you like to live with?"

The small boy was very, very quiet and appeared more thoughtful than a child his age could. Just a little while later, when the adults asked him for his reply, he said, "Uncle Ruthl, can I live with everyone?"

Chuckles and giggles floated through the air, and everyone was taken aback, except perhaps Granny, but they were all quite pleased with the development. Link fell to dreaming that night with a blissful smile on his face; he knew he'd made the right choice. From then on, about every month or so, he would take up quarters with another family and he came to know each household of Ordon Village quite well; he could no more have picked a favorite from along them than he could have selected a favorite spot in the hills or a tree he thought prettier than the others.

As he grew a bit older, he came to the realization, no doubt aided by Hyram, that he owed the villagers in excess for having taken him to their hearts and showing him such love. He was determined to repay them for their manifold kindnesses by offering to help whenever and with whatever he could. In the spring before he reached his sixth year, he noted with interest that three of the men were harrowing up the ground to be used for the huge pumpkin patch that they grew annually. A thought popped into his head which caused him to smile. He scurried to his aunt, who was rather absently scrubbing a basket of laundry and watching her little son, Ruben, as he toddled about and put into his mouth everything that found itself in his chubby hands.

"Aunt Uli!" he cried. "Uncle Rusl and Uncle Jaggle and Uncle Bo are clearing up the pumpkin patch. Can I plant the seeds? Can I? I want to help!"

"Oh, Link! Would you take that pebble away from Ruben? He mustn't eat it!"

This he did with celerity. The baby started to cry when he pried the small stone from his fingers, but Link knew just what to do. "This will be much nicer, Ruben," said the five-year-old, giving him a radish by way of rectification. "You can gnaw on this and it won't break your teeth!"

He turned back to Uli and pleaded, "I want to help plant the pumpkins. Can I, Aunt?"

She smiled softly at him. "I don't see why not, Link dear. Why don't you go ask your uncles?"

Several moments later, the small boy was picking his way through the turned soil. "Uncle Rusl! Uncle Bo!" he cried. "Can I plant the pumpkins? I want to plant them."

The men cast looks at each other. "I don't think it would do any harm," said the dirty-blonde blacksmith swordsman. "He really does want to help out."

"Hey, whatever he can do will be a load off my back," Jaggle agreed.

"Well, then," said the mayor as he turned back to the small boy. "You may have this task, Link, but you must listen to our instructions and plant the seeds as we tell you. Can you do that, lad?"

The child grinned so broadly that his cheeks looked as though they'd be hurting, and he nodded earnestly. "What do I do? I want to help."

He had gotten the idea in his head that he wanted to plant the entire pumpkin patch; it was truly an immense project, as the villagers stored many for use during the winter and exported a great deal more to Castle Town and other settlements. The child felt much pride that people would be eating pumpkins that he sowed and he was rather tickled pink at the idea.

When the men learned of his decision, they muttered aside to themselves, "We will see if he can go through with it," and were each interested to see how far his determination would carry him.

Link spent the rest of that day pushing the easy-to-handle seeds in little mounds that Jaggle taught him to make. His uncles showed him how each mound had to be separated from the others by a good fifteen feet, so as to allow the plants plenty of space to grow. They made slight furrows in the ground so as to enable him to plant in a straight line and then left him to his task. Some of the adults would come close to take peeks at him and smile, at least inwardly, at the sight of the small boy working so hard. He kept steadily on, planting seed after seed in mound after mound, row after row.

Fado's dad, a huge man by the name of Juble, arrived back after his own work with the village's goat herd and as serious a man as he was, he grinned to hear of Link's involvement with the village's livelihood. He marched over to the little boy and boomed out, "So, you've decided to help out, eh?!"

"Y-Yes, uncle."

"You keep workin' hard now, you hear me?"

Link nodded and began to pick up the seeds that he'd dropped. The planting was hard work for a young thing like him who hadn't done anything like it before, and as much as he would have liked to stop and play with Ilia and the little ones, he was determined to succeed at the monumental task he'd undertaken. His aunts made sure that he had more than adequate a supply of water as he toiled under the warm, late-spring sun; plump, motherly Sera, carrying her brand-new baby against her breast, brought him a small plate of cookies and watched while he munched large bites from them and washed them down with fresh goat's milk.

Followed by her marmalade kitten, Ilia trotted up to him and leaned curiously over the mound into which her friend was currently hiding the orange-brown seeds. "Don'tcha want to come play, Link?" she asked, little hands on her hips and her head titled at an inquisitive angle.

There was nothing quite so tempting at that moment to the five-year-old than doing just that. "I… I can't, Ilie. This is really important work." He was finding that the labor of planting was more than he had expected, but could not bear to give in to his weaker nature; that would mean admitting defeat before Hyram and he simply wouldn't do that.

"But why? It'd be more fun if you came over to play." She stood, wiggling her bare toes in the delightfully soft soil.

He sat back on his little haunches and brushed the line of sweat from his brow. "But I have to," he said, after several moments of careful consideration. "I want everyone to know I can help." He spoke very quietly so that even the small girl could barely hear him.

Young as she was, Ilia didn't question him further; perhaps she couldn't understand the desire, but she knew her best friend had some strangely grown-up ideas. She went down on her knees next to him and asked in a way that was almost a command, "Can I help, too?"

A little smile flickered to his boyish lips and he cast a brief glance to her earnestly shining eyes. He demonstrated the planting technique he had learned and together they finished several rows. For a little while the younger child took pleasure in poking the almost tear-drop shaped seeds into the dark soil, but her attention span was much shorter than that of her friend; first she was distracted by her darling kitten when he pounced on a few leaves that had drifted their way, and then she stopped to chase a rabbit that poked its nose into the children's domain.

At suppertime Link was so tired that he hardly had the energy to chew his food. He actually fell asleep in front of the fire, still holding his nearly empty bowl; Hyram's dad, Kern, had to carry him to the house.

"That boy is a danged hard worker," he murmured aside to his wife, Neta. "He'll grow up to be a good farmer."

For the next two days, Link continued with his self-imposed task and Ilia joined him for a couple more short-lived stints. Finally, by twilight of the third day he finally planted the last mound. Wearing a proud, if weary smile, he scanned the ground which had seen his labor. It seemed as though Granny had known that he had finished, for she came hobbling along on her elaborate cane over the little distance toward him.

"Link…" she breathed. "You have done a marvelous job! Everyone is very proud of you, but none so much as I."

He blushed and shuffled one foot back and forth in the dirt. "I just wanted to help, Granny. And Ilie helped me. I think… I like to plant pumpkinth."

"You do, eh? You took on a big task, my lad, and you fulfilled it." She smiled and shook her head. "Ah, but enough of that. Are you thirsty? Let us go down to the house and you can get us both a cool drink."

The child lent her his little shoulder as they moved away from the site of his work, and despite being tired he hoped very much that he could persuade her to tell another story.

From then on, all the villagers referred to that area as Link's pumpkin patch. Hyram always said it with a sneer, as if it was a silly thing, but Link didn't care because he was proud of it and that was all that mattered. Anyway, the older boy was probably just jealous because he hadn't a pumpkin patch called after him. Ilia always took delight in pronouncing it whenever she had the chance, and she reminded everyone how she had helped him.

That year was the first of many in which they seemed to grow larger and tastier pumpkins than ever before; the rinds were so much more orange, the seeds very huge, and one taste of the rich flesh begged for another and another. Everyone attributed the success to the boy's very careful planting and his involvement in their care, much to his slight embarrassment and great pride. After the harvest that year, a couple of the men took a large shipment of the pumpkins to Castle Town, returning with quite a handsome sum for the sale thereof. The adults felt it quite fair that Link should receive a small share in the profit and it was the most substantial collection of money the child had possessed in his life. He knew not what he would do with it, but he gave a part of it to his Ilia.

~O~

From quite a young age, Link was very attached to the animals in and around the village. The animals who lived in the sparse woods the north were shy toward mostly everyone else, but when the little boy made friendly little sounds and held out a hand with crumbs, they would go right to him and eat from it without fear. Somehow, he was a very gentle sort of person who they knew they could trust unconditionally.

He was quite fond of "helping" Juble with the care of the village goats and from the big man of few words he learned much about the creatures. The goats were very special, as they had long ago been bred right there in Ordon Village for their blue hides, horns grown into an almost perfect circular pattern, and absolutely spectacular milk. They were gentle creatures, mostly content to graze the green pastures and to be petted by their favorite human, but like children they also had their ornery moments. Fado's dad was quite able to handle them because he was such a big, capable man, but when Link padded on little bare feet up the little hill to the ranch he had to warn the boy not to rub them the wrong way. Even though Link got along quite well with the animals, there were a few times that they came to be too rowdy, but Juble irritably plucked him from any serious harm.

When he was six, he formed a very special attachment to a young kid who could not nurse properly. The tender of goats hadn't the time to care a single frail baby when there were so many other tasks demanding his attention; the boy overheard Juble and Bo talking about it.

"…no hope for her. None of the other dams will nurse her."

"It's sad, but there is nothing to be done, I'm afraid. She would probably die anyway, bein' the runt."

Upon hearing that, Link rushed forward and implored, "Please let me take care of her. I could feed her. I don't want her to die! Please, please, Uncle Juble, Uncle Bo?"

The mayor turned to him and replied slowly. "Lad, you'll have to feed her every few hours until she gets big enough. You still have to do your other chores, too."

"I can do it, Uncle Bo. I can thave her!"

"You know that this will mean wakin' up for night feedings?" asked Juble, gruffly, as he tried to hide the smile that insisted on creeping to his thin lips.

Link nodded seriously. Already he was dreaming of running across the good brown earth and through golden-green fields with his very own pet by his side. After all, wouldn't she be his goat if he had permission to care for her? The others didn't actually belong to him, and even though he liked to play with them, it would be so wonderful to be able to call one his own!

"If you've no objections, Juble, I think we should let the boy have his way," Bo declared, after some serious moments of thought and watching Link closely.

The other man made a motion of acquiescence and headed for the ranch, the child scampering along after him. While Juble went about forming a nipple for the feeding bottle, Link pulled the small goat to his lap, cuddled her, and smoothed her fur. She seemed to like it but she kept bleating and gazing up at him with her adorable dark eyes, telling him how hungry she was. She was already so cute, with her short indigo hair and lightly mottled face; he was already beginning to imagine what she would look like with horns.

"What are you doing, boy?"

Link jerked his head up in midst of stroking the kid. "I-I'm getting ready to feed her," he stammered, suddenly nervous that he'd done something wrong.

"You still have to learn a lot. A doe doesn't sit with her kids in her lap; she stands while they suck the milk from her udder. This little girl isn't expecting something strange being forced into her mouth. You have to imitate the dam, like this."

The big man folded himself to a squatting position and held the bottle almost upside-down, with a great pearly drop of milk slowly forming at the hole he'd made in the somewhat crude nipple. Link got to his feet and tried to imitate his uncle, but he was less than half the size of the man; his tousled head was just above the kid's. Meanwhile, she drew nearer and found that the unknown object contained the nourishment she needed.

Finally, Juble put the bottle into Link's anxious fingers and told him, "You don't have to get down, boy. You're short enough that you can just bend over a bit."

The child did as instructed and in a matter of seconds he was in ecstasy as the baby began pulling at the bottle again and making little contented sounds as she did. He smiled slightly, his eyes shining with dreams of the future.

"Uncle Juble, can I ever feed her when she's in my lap?"

"Maybe when she is used to the bottle."

That night he was sleeping soundly next to Fado when a big hand descended upon him and shook his shoulder. "Link!" came a faraway voice. "Wake up, boy."

The path from the pleasant dreams of slumber back to the world was one that he traversed but reluctantly. His mind dulled with sleep, the child could not think what was happening as he blinked into the near darkness and propped himself up on an elbow.

"It's time to go feed that baby goat of yours," his uncle said in a tone that he seemed to be trying to make a whisper, but didn't quite succeed.

One large hand still rested on the boy's arm and the other held a mostly covered lantern. Link extricated himself from the sheets and stumbled after the huge man. His eyes were still half clouded with dreams but he adjusted quickly to the pale luminescence of the moon. Upon entering the barn he woke up further still when he noted how eagerly the kid came toward them. Juble had already showed him how to prepare a bottle and now the man supervised while he went over the process again, his fingers made clumsy by sleep.

The next day, the boy had trouble keeping with his chores. He was very absent-minded as he threw handfuls of food for the cuccos, and caught the eye of Emeline, who was the caretaker of the feathery creatures.

"Link, what is the matter? Why are you scattering around over twice the amount of lentils than the cuccos need?" she demanded, a mite irritated because she thought he was daydreaming again.

"I'm thorry, Aunt Emeline. I'll pick them up."

"No, don't do that. What is the matter with you? Your mind isn't on your chores today." She lifted his chin and noted the slightly dark appearance around his eyes. "Why, you're tired, aren't you Link?"

He nodded and yawned as if to illustrate the point.

"Well, you just keep going with your chores and make sure you pull the weeds, not our plants."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied and went off to join Hyram, Fado, Jaggle and Kern in the tiresome task of weeding, while the woman went to have a talk with her husband.

That evening, the boy received special permission from Bo to spend the next several nights in the barn near his little dependent. Link slumbered snugly in old blankets and hay and when the small kid was hungry she butted him with her little head.

"Huhmm?" he muttered, more asleep than awake.

"Meh-eh-eh!" she said. If she'd been human she'd have told him, "Feed me!" which is what the boy heard in her bleat.

His lap was half filled with hay and blanket as he arose and fumbled for the bottle; upon locating it more from touch than sight, held it toward her mouth. The boy's head began nodding as she sucked mightily; he actually began to doze off but she stopped him from so doing when she could no longer drink the milk.

Ilia was enchanted with the little darling and during the daytime feedings she was often on hand to watch or take part. "Let me do it, Link!" she cried, fixing him with eyes as green as the forest and just as bewitching.

The boy's favorite thing was to feed his beloved pet, but he could never refuse a reasonable request put to him, especially from Ilia. He surrendered the bottle to her and watched carefully as she fed the baby goat. The five-year-old giggled as the kid leaned forward and sucked greedily, making the darling, contented little noises that she always did when getting her belly full.

"What are you going to call her?" asked Ilia as she fondled the bundle of legs and fur.

The boy shrugged as he held out his fingers, allowing the tiny creature lick traces of milk from them. "I don't know. She's too young to know what she wants to be called."

His companion beamed. "How about Leaf?" she suggested.

Link turned the name carefully over in his mind. "I… I don't think so. It thounds like a name maybe for a boy goat."

She folded her arms, which told him she wasn't going to let the subject go. "Okay. How about Flower? Or Blossom? Stream? Wheat? Forest? Kitty?" she rattled on, the names of her favorite things slipping over her tongue. "…Acorn? Honey? Fern? What about Strawberry? Or—"

"Wait, Ilie, I like that one."

"Ooh, you do? Which one?"

"Fern." He turned to the kid who was basking in the attention. "It's a perfect name for you, girl. Do you like it?"

She pressed her hard little head firmly against the boy's chest and actually nodded, her adorable ears flapping. Link and Ilia exchanged glances and burst into a fit of giggles; her voice rang and echoed with childish innocence and reckless mirth, while his was somehow softer and no less subdued.

As summer ripened and then waned, Fern grew and flourished like the weeds that plagued the village crops. The boy was so proud when her horns started growing in; he measured them faithfully every week but was disappointed with how slowly they were progressing. She followed either child, but especially Link, wherever she could. No goats were allowed in the many garden plots or fields, which seemed a pity to the children, but couldn't be helped. The young creature was quite free to accompany the little humans to the forest outskirts where he played with his friends, something she loved to do because she would always find a nice green, nibbly sort of snack.

The days were beginning to show their age with cold that crept into the bones of the year; the leaves of the trees Ilia loved so much were making their last fling by showing the unaccustomed and varied colors of the sunset and the animals were bringing in the last of their hordes for the winter ahead of them. The villagers had reaped, plucked and gathered the fruits of their labors and now readied for their customary festival for a plenteous harvest. It was a special year because there were more children than before and some of them were already growing up; the adults wanted to commemorate the occasion with something special.

Late one autumnal afternoon, under chilly trees that interrupted the sun's rays, the children were playing in one of their favorite spots, a clearing just south of the spirit's spring. Ilia was making pretty arrangements in the dirt with leaves, needles, twigs, pebbles and any other debris she could find; she had convinced Link, Fado and Gilda to join her. To the project Link added his keen, artistic eye, Gilda her taste for finding the prettiest things and Fado shared many insightful, though simple, opinions. The girls were annoyed that the little ones, two-year-old Ruben and Fado's nineteen-month-old brother, Topel, tried to ruin their work by toddling through it; the children had to keep a constant eye out for them.

Meanwhile, the nearby Hyram distained the project and endeavored to cause as much trouble for them as possible by giving untoward and unwanted advice and criticism and by inciting the babies to trample their work. When he learned that his taunting fell on ears that would not listen he began to tease Fern; the latter darted about, took frequent bites from her namesake, and rammed the aggravating boy when he came to be too much.

"No, no, Ilia," said Gilda, a mite disdainfully. "You should put the flowers in the center of the tree. They look much nicer there."

"It won't," the younger girl retorted, but she tried it anyway. "No, I don't like it. They look better at the top of the tree. Don't you think so, Link?"

But that boy's head was turned away and his mind was on something else; his eyes were fixed on his pet, who was exhibiting some peculiar behavior. She shifted her small hooves very nervously and split the air with horns that were only just forming.

Link went over and put an arm over her back. "What's wrong, Fern?" he whispered. He simply couldn't imagine what was bothering her. Without warning, she suddenly took off in the direction of the village. An exclamation of surprise tore itself from his parted lips.

Ilia's attention had also been aroused and she rose to her dusty feet. "Link, what's wrong? Why did Fern run away like that?"

He did not reply, for he was already hurrying after his distressed pet. His best friend would have followed, except for a toddler who nearly ruined all their hard work by grabbing a handful of leaves from Ilia's best tree and was reaching for more. "Ruben, stop that!" she shouted, flicking his fat little hand.

Hyram sprinted alongside the smaller child on longer legs and cast some choice words in his direction. "Ha! Your goat is finally tired of you! She's finally wised up to what a loser you are!"

The seven-year-old boy finally came to an abrupt stop as he careened into one of the village ladies. "Slow down, Link!" Emeline cried. "What's got you so excited?"

"Fern!" he gasped. "She ran away… Where is she?"

Even before the last breathy word had escaped him, the child spotted his goat standing at the firmly shut door of one the outdoor sheds. He marched over to her and pulled her away with some difficulty.

"Why did you run away, Fern?" he demanded, as if he expected an answer.

His aunt approached him quickly and with a hint of urgency in her voice said, "Link, let's take her back to the barn. She's probably hungry."

The animal did not wish to comply; she balked as both Link and Emeline pulled her away from the door and ushered her into the large building that housed the goats. For once in her life she did not want the food that they offered her. The boy had the distinct impression that she was crying; he could not understand it and it made him sorry to see her so.

"She wanted to go inside the shed," he mumbled. Why would she be interested in it, though? He was determined to find out.

"Link, no! Don't go in there!" Emeline cried, too late.

He lifted the wooden latch, opened the heavy door and met a horrible sight that froze him to the spot. The three men in the room were stationed around a table in the center of the shed; upon that single piece of furniture was the partially de-skinned corpse of a goat. Both Juble and Rusl were working at cutting away the rest of the hide and Bo was tying some rope onto the legs for hanging. Blood was on their hands and smeared on the canvas aprons they wore. With the most awful feeling of dread squeezing his heart, the child could only stand and stare for several moments.

The mayor saw him first. "Link!"

"What are you doing in here?!" the blacksmith exclaimed, the small blade in his hands still between the animal's hide and flesh.

The boy's tanned little face was suddenly very white and his blue eyes blazed with fiery tears. " _I hate you_!" he shouted in a half strangled voice.

Finally finding that his legs would work after all, he turned and almost fell through the opening in the door. Emeline caught him in her arms, but he wrenched himself free desperately. He just wanted to get away and so he ran, pursued by agitated cries from several throats. He did not slow his momentum when Hyram stood in his way and sneered, "You're such a little wimp!"

Link collided solidly with the other boy, nearly knocking him down, and continued his frenzied dash away from the horrific scene. Nor did he give any answer to Ilia's high-pitched, concerned inquiries as he passed the other children; he crossed the bridge that spanned the great Ordon Gorge, without marveling as he usually did on how high he was. Bitter, burning tears fell from his eyes and half blinded him, causing the boy to stumble and trip many times as he careened deeper and deeper into the woods.

When at last he could run no more he collapsed, hyperventilating and sobbing excruciatingly. The boy buried his face in the soft soil of the forest floor in an attempt to purge the image that was ever present in his mind, but he could not blot out the empty-eyed stare of an animal that had been alive just an hour earlier and her blood that seemed to seep through his eyelids. As he thought of the butchering and the red-stained hands, he paid no attention to a stomach that was doing mad, churning flip-flops, until the contents of same ejected themselves.

Still sobbing uncontrollably, the child spat the vomit that lingered in his mouth and crawled away. He moaned, shivered, and clung to the pure bark of a birch tree. The dreadful memories were too fresh and would not leave him; they flashed repeatedly across his consciousness like the most gruesome of nightmares. The sun had since made its farewell, dark shadows were creeping toward him, and the forest had stilled with the coming of night, but the boy did not heed any of his surroundings. He weakly pummeled the tree to which he clung with filthy fists, and his tears mixed with the grime of face and clothes until he was quite a sorrowful sight. No words of coherency could be distinguished between the sounds of mournful weeping.

Darkness was full upon Link and he didn't care; it seemed as though his tears would never cease their flow. A twig snapped but he did not lift his head; several more similar noises followed and were growing ever closer. Had the creature that crept up to him been a wild animal it would have pounced upon him with no warning, but this thing had perhaps half a brain in its head.

It was a monster; its skin looked like one big bruise, its coarse, stringy white hair was plastered to its head with oily grime, it was barely clothed in an undistinguishable bit of leather, and it carried a very crude mace. It gave a hoarse cry as it jumped toward the boy, brandishing its weapon. Link's head flew up, his throat stopping with grief and sudden, heart-pounding fear. He had nothing with which to defend himself, not even a stick; he gave a little cry of despair and, expecting to be hit with the wicked club, threw his arms over his face.

Before the monster had the chance to raise fingers or weapon to harm the boy, Link heard a growl, the slight sickening sound of the tearing of flesh, and a little splash of liquid flew to his cheek and burned there, immediately followed by the noise of something heavy falling to the ground. Terror-stricken, he lowered himself still further and cringed, expecting pain momentarily. Nothing happened, and he slowly became aware of the magnified sounds of something breathing. He tried to think; had the monster sounded like that when it advanced upon him? His fear was lessened only slightly, but unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he opened his eyelids a crack and peeped out. He was so taken aback that he let his arms fall completely.

Calmly sitting just a few feet away was a huge golden wolf with a single, scarlet eye that looked beyond those of the child into his very soul. Its fur shone with an otherworldly light of its own and cast tiny pools of it to the ground around the creature. Its tail moved back and forth, as if to the rhythm of its ghostly breaths.

Though he had been terrified just seconds before, all that was left to Link was an awe-inspired sort of fear as he gazed, hardly without blinking, at the apparition before him. That solitary eye held him in its powerful gaze and from it he could not budge. Then the wolf turned his head, silently compelling the boy to do the same. Lying on the ground, surrounded by the stench of rotten blood, was the already decaying corpse of the monster, its throat clawed out. As he stared at the dark blood, a tremor of revulsion passing through him, suddenly reminding him of the reason for the tears that still stung at his eyes.

"Life comes not without death, child."

Suddenly the wolf was directly in front of him; the boy hadn't even heard him come close. The magnificent animal was considerably taller than him, but somehow Link could not summon any fear for himself, even with the creature's muzzle inches from his own face. It was a very peculiar thing that he could feel no breath issuing from the mouth in which he glimpsed many sharp, glowing white teeth. That same mouth opened, the teeth parted and showed a reddened tongue which descended upon him and licked his forehead.

Link stared and trembled with something akin to joy as a feeling of courageous warmth spread through him. The golden beast made an about-face and walked away on paws of velvet; after several paces he stopped and turned his head back to gaze at the boy. Link arose on unsteady legs and tripped forward to follow. Tentatively he put forth his hand and placed it on the shining fur which seemed only slightly warm, seemingly due to the light it emanated. The wolf turned his head again, though the child could only see the closed eye, and he began the journey through the woods.

The deep darkness of night, especially in a forest of strange sounds, is frightening to any youngster, as Link would have been if not for the glowing, radiant assurance of the otherworldly creature who led him. The forest and everything therein seemed to part for the beast as he padded as silently as a ghost; while the child's little feet continually caused disruptions of old leaves, twigs and other rotting material, the paws of the wolf appeared not even to touch the ground.

Meanwhile, Link's mind was filled with thoughts of the butchering of the goat, the dead monster, and the words the beast had spoken to him. It was all more than he could fully comprehend at the time, for his little limbs were shaking with cold and fatigue. He stumbled along, almost in a stupor, one hand at the side of his guide.

All at once he became aware of a voice calling his name. Within seconds, a man bearing aloft a lantern emerged from the darkness, like a ship through fog, and caught sight of him.

"Link!" the swordsman cried. He rushed forward, knelt to the boy's level and enveloped him in a crushing hug. Pulling back almost as quickly, he adopted a tone laced with both anger and concern, gripped him by the shoulders and looked into the boy's eyes. "Why did you run off like that?! We've been searching for you for hours! Do you know how dangerous these woods are? We were afraid a monster had gotten to you!"

Shivering, the child half mumbled, half whimpered, "I'm sorry, Uncle Ruthl. I'm sorry I ran away…"

The blacksmith's face softened just a little; he placed a hand behind the tousled brown-gold head and hugged him again. "I'm the one who's sorry, Link. We never meant for you to see something like that. It is something that must be, but I wanted to let you learn of it gradually, to prepare you for it. You see, the goats are part of our livelihood. Look at this jacket I'm wearing."

He removed said item and wrapped it around the trembling boy, who gazed down at it and petted the blue fur; one of his animal friends was keeping him warm even now.

"Death comes with life," Link whispered and leaned his head against his uncle's shoulder.

Rusl gazed at him long and hard. "Yes, that's right. The goats give us their hides to keep warm and their meat to sustain us. They do not suffer when they die, that I can assure you. We'll talk about this more later, son. For now I'd better get you back. Everyone is worried sick about you!"

The child looked up at him and nodded softly and wearily. With the turn of his head, the swordsman noted the black blood on his cheek.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"I' m okay. There was a golden wolf… he saved me." With the remembrance of the beast Link looked around, eyes met only with darkness outside the circle of lantern light; he hadn't really expected to see him, anyway.

"A golden wolf? Is it possible?" Rusl stared at the child with bared astonishment. "Link, it was because of a golden wolf that we found you in the woods as a baby."

* * *

 _You wouldn't believe how much I have played Twilight Princess! It's insane!_

 _I am still working on my other novelization and will continue to do so. There is no way I will be abandoning either one. The reason I decided to start this one as well is because I was in such a mood for Twilight Princess ever since the news of TPHD._

 _See you later..._

* * *

01-28-2016 ~ Published


	2. Friends, Family & a Fight

_Thank you to those to who read, enjoyed, and left a review/favorite/follow! A very special thanks to Arison Nakaru, who kindly bugged me to hasten with this next chapter.  
_

* * *

 **Ith How the World Crumbles**

Chapter 2: Friends, Family & a Fight

"Tell me about the golden wolf again!" commanded the blonde six-year old as she perched at the top of the gate to the cucco pen. She took bites out of a cookie held in mittened hand and let the crumbs fall to the birds below her.

"Again?" her companion repeated, having nearly inhaled his snack already.

He was leaning over the fence near his friend; he stared at the animals, wondering what it would be like to be a cucco for a little while, pecking at the ground for bugs and seeds, fighting with the others and being shut up at night from predatory animals.

"Of course I want to hear it again!" Ilia exclaimed. "It's so exciting and it's real! It really happened to you!" She clasped her hands and sighed. "I wish I could see the golden wolf… Do you think I could see him, Link?"

He raised his eyes and turned his mind away from his imaginings. "You might. Granny said that he wasn't an ordinary wolf. He wouldn't show himself to many people and it would have to be for a good reason if he did." The boy was quick to realize how that might be interpreted by his friend and already her eyes were narrowly fixed upon him. "B-But he would only appear for people with kind hearts… and… and of courthe you'd be able to thee him!"

That seemed to assuage the girl, and her baleful look softened and she resorted to questions, the answers to which she had nearly memorized. "What did he look like? Was he ferocious? What about his one eye? What did he say when you looked at him? C'mon, Link, tell me again!"

He understood her partiality for repeatedly hearing the story, as he was sure he would have reciprocated her desire had he been in her shoes, but somehow he found it much nicer to ponder it quietly to himself rather than recounting the tale so many times to everyone, especially Ilia. He pulled himself up a bit higher on the fence, straddled the top board, and let his somber eyes rest on the excited green ones of his friend.

The younger of the two children leaned forward. "Are you going to tell me?" she demanded, all the while licking the last of the crumbs from about her lips.

"Okay," the boy acquiesced at last. "Which part do you want to hear?"

"All of it. Start with when he appeared and don't leave anything out! I'll know if you do."

The boy wiggled and tried to find a more comfortable position, which was nigh unto impossible as a result of his position. "Well, you know that the wolf saved me from that nasty purple monster. At first he just stood and looked at me with his red eye."

"Don't forget about the one that was closed!"

"Yeah. His right eye was closed and there was a jaggly line through it like he'd been hurt there."

"He must be a brave wolf," said Ilia dreamily. "I bet he was saving someone when he got that."

Link nodded, for a similar thing had occurred to him as well.

"Now, tell me exactly what he looked like," she commanded, rather imperiously for the daughter of the mayor of such a humble village.

"He shone all over like the sun, except he wasn't so bright. He was more like the moon, but he was mostly gold. He had white hair over his chest that looked kinda like Uncle Kern's beard, some white hair between his ears, and a white stripe on each side."

"His paws were white, too. Don't forget that!"

"That's what I was about to say. His paws and the tip of his tail were white and shining like the moon."

"Hey, you didn't tell me about his tail! Why didn't you tell me about his tail before?" the girl cried, glaring at him and somehow looking very cute as she sat on the gate with both hands on hips.

"I guess I forgot about it. It's just a small thing, Ilie. Don't get so upset."

"But I want to hear everything! You can't forget anything else, okay?"

Link nodded and threw one leg over the crest of the fence so that he was facing away from the cuccos, opposite of her position. "Okay, okay. So do you want me to tell the rest?"

"Tell me about what he said to you and how he licked you."

The children went on like that for a while, until every last morsel of detail was extracted from that most fascinating of stories. After the boy told her yet again how silently the golden beast had simply vanished from a dark forest where his glow was impossible to miss, Ilia slid down from the fence, landing on the frosty ground with both cozily booted feet. She raised her slightly snubbed little nose and eyes brimming with fun, all the while trying to keep a mischievous grin from betraying her thoughts before she could put them into words.

"I'm bored," she declared. "I'm tired of waiting. Let's do something, Link. Oh, I know!"

"What?" He, too, hopped off the boards and faced his friend.

She lowered her voice to a conspirational whisper. "Let's go try to find the golden wolf in the woods again. I really, really want to see him!"

"But…but we're not supposed to go in the woods by ourselves. Uncle Bo told us to go out and play. Everyone'll be mad if we leave…"

"No one will know," she insisted, tugging at his hand. "We'll just go in, see the wolf and come right back. C'mon, Link, don't be spoilsport! I want to see him!"

"I don't think it'll be so easy…" mumbled the boy.

The girl had a hint of tears in her eyes and her voice was softly imploring. "But I really, really want to... Please, Link? Come with me?"

He sensed some desperation in her voice and realized that she had a double purpose in her desire. Not only did she fervently wish to see the almost mythical beast with her own eyes, she also wanted to put more distance between them and the two simple huts from which came somewhat muffled cries.

"Well… Okay. I guess we could look for him a little…but we'd better not stay long."

Ilia's mischievous smile returned and she again drew at the boy's hand. With a surreptitious glance at the homes with light coming between the tiniest cracks in the closed shutters, the children darted along the path that led from the village to the forest. Before they knew it they had crossed over the bridge that swayed in the wind sweeping through the gorge, and the trees of the unfamiliar woods were swallowing their two small forms. They did not notice the first few flakes of winter snow that silently assailed their capped heads.

"This is exciting, isn't it?" she whispered, completely awed by the great, crisscrossing canopy of mostly bare tree branches high overhead.

The wintry stillness of the forest seemed to be crackling with cool energy that entered through her nose and mouth and made her feel quite invigorated. She was positive that they would spot the wonderfully shining wolf around every massive trunk, every heap of rock or earth, every significant or thick shrub. She glanced over to her friend, expecting to see him in a state much like hers.

"Why aren't you excited?" she questioned, a bit louder this time.

"I'm trying to remember the path we take so we don't get lost."

"Don't you know? You came here before."

He looked to his crudely made boots and the leaves and other debris that they trampled. "I was running and I lost myself."

"Oh."

Ilia hadn't been so keen on that part of the story, but she realized now that it made sense. Had she thought on it longer, she might have also realized that being lost was the reason he was reluctant to come back with her, and had only agreed to it to accommodate her.

"Don't worry, Link. If we get lost I'm sure the wolf will lead us out, like he did for you," she said, in an attempt to sound reassuring, but had anyone else been listening he would have heard the very childish, innocent faith in her tone.

They wandered on for a little while, Link growing more anxious. They spotted one spooked deer and a few frisky squirrels, but the forest seemed nearly asleep and peaceful under winter's cold mantle. This calm cloak was ruffled and blown aside at times by unpredictable currents of wind. When it smacked the little explorers in the face, they gasped, were forced to turn their heads aside and catch their breath.

Ilia thought it was a good sign that they had so much space to themselves, but the boy continued to be on edge. The most alarming thing was the darkness that seemed to be closing in on them, as if night was enveloping everything hours sooner than expected.

"Why haven't we seen him yet?" she asked, nearly whining in nervousness caused by the lowering skies.

The words were hardly out of her mouth than they heard a frightful moaning and creaking. Throwing their heads up, their eyes met with lacy snowflakes, which fell and added to the frost that still remained upon the ground. Usually the first snow of the season, however late it was, brought them unbounded joy, but they could not help being afraid of it when they were as good as lost in a forest they knew not how big, a forest filled with many grasping shadows and alien sounds.

"I… I think we thould go back, Ilie," Link murmured, his voice startlingly near her ear.

She jumped again and her teeth clicked together as she whispered back, "What…was th-that noise?"

"I don't know."

They huddled in their furry outer garments and Ilia grasped her friend's hand almost instinctively. She was beginning to find out just what a foolish, fruitless idea it was to enter Faron Woods by themselves, and too late she wished with all of her six year old heart that they hadn't ventured so far from their home.

"I want t-to go back n-now," she said, in an undertone punctuated with the chattering of teeth. "You k-know the way, right, Link?"

He returned wordlessly with an affirmative gesture; he was silent because he wished so desperately to assuage her worries and his heart beat so loudly that he was sure that opening his mouth would let the sound escape. With the girl still clinging to his hand he began shuffling through the snow-topped loam of the forest floor, hoping desperately and almost holding his breath that he could adequately remember the way they'd taken.

Another creaking moan split the air already filled with snowflakes, and the sound nearly made the children jump out of their garments in fright. It seemed to be coming far over their heads, but quick, anxious glances upward did not aid them in determining the source thereof. If they hadn't been riding so hard on their fears they might have realized that the wind that was kicking up the white powder on the ground was also contorting the branches of the great trees into positions and ways the latter did not appreciate, which was the cause of those noises.

Some of the wayward gusts of wind blew more snow toward the children, causing them to gasp, blink furiously, and try their best to shield their faces. Their hands, ensconced in warm woolen mittens, still clutched at each other; as he led the way, Link managed to shield her from a small portion of the storm. They traveled as rapidly as they could but at one point Ilia tripped or slipped, almost bringing her friend down with her.

He leaned down to help her and saw that tears were pooling at the corners of eyes that seemed so darkly green with fear. So worried was he over finding the right path, Link felt like he was about to burst out bawling too, but seeing her in such a way distracted him as likely nothing else could. He gave her an empathetic hug and patted her shoulder.

"Don't cry, Ilie!" he begged.

Half whimpering, half sobbing, she gasped, "I-I'm so sc-scared!" Her one desire was to be safely surrounded in the warming bliss of her home with her family.

His mouth curved into a slight, reassuring sort of smile that always made the little girl's heart melt. "We'll…" He swallowed and tried again, making an extreme effort not to lisp, as it would only betray him. "We'll be home soon, Ilie. I know we will. So don't cry, okay?"

Pulling her to her wearied feet, he brushed the snow from the lovely blonde locks that stuck out from underneath her knitted cap and grasped her hand tightly again. He was terribly apprehensive about how much she was depending on him and he wasn't entirely sure that they were even traveling in the right direction. He'd endeavored to notice little landmarks that they'd passed earlier, as Rusl and Kern had told him certain strategies to keep one's way in the forest. The gusting snow hindered his sight and their footsteps to some degree; he felt they should have been coming out of the thickest part of the woods, but there was not yet any such cessation of the seemingly never-ending trees.

Ilia followed behind, snuffling occasionally and trying to stifle her wails of fright in an attempt to be as brave as her friend. Perhaps it was better for her that she didn't know how close to tears he actually was. When he helped her jump across a rocky creek bed, she lost his hand after the leap and went down on her hands and knees. Frantic over the loss of a human touch, she scrabbled again for his mittened fingers and clung with a grip like death.

Meanwhile, the boy trudged along, unable to keep his mind from wandering and imagining what dire thing might befall them. He hardly remembered the other piece of advice relayed to him by his uncles; if he was ever lost in a forest, they told him, he was to stay in place and yell. The combination of Ilia's accompanying fright and the cold bite in the air dictated that they should keep moving, an instinct which he followed.

He wished that someone would come and take from his shoulders the very serious burden of finding the way out of the woods, or even that the golden wolf would show himself and deliver them. With every second that passed, he was more and more convinced that he had taken a wrong turn somewhere and was only succeeding in losing himself and Ilia further. With each of those heart-pounding moments also came the hope that he would glimpse a break in the trees, an expectation which was dashed almost as soon as it had formed. Finally he could bear it no longer and he ceased movement, peering through the whitened gloom for something that would evince to him that they hadn't gone astray.

The younger child looked up at him with very wide eyes and whispered, "W-What's w-wrong, Link?"

 _We're lost! I don't…know…which way to go! It's my fault, Ilie… We're lost and no one knows we're here! I don't know what to do!_

The fear that had alternatively lined his stomach with rocks and flew about knocking butterflies loose, now seemed to propel itself sourly up his throat; he had to clamp his mouth shut to keep the cry from escaping his lips. Even so, he made a slight little gasping sound and he abruptly turned his head so that she could not glimpse the tears that stung and blurred his vision.

The unmistakable sound of an animal's growl sounded ahead and to the right of the children. They both started, cast their eyes in the direction of the noise and the girl put her other hand on Link's arm. For perhaps a second or two they remained fastened to the spot which held them, as if they had grown roots like the very trees which surrounded them, but then they found their feet again and pelted in the opposite direction. They traveled in this fashion for several odd yards, when they ran into something rather large, furry, and somewhat rotund. So extreme was their terror that they didn't even attempt to identify the obstacle but were only trying to scramble away when two thick hands reached down and grabbed them by the scruff of the neck.

"What do you two troublemakers think you're doin'?!"

The familiar voice brought sense and reason back to the two terrified youngsters, who raised their eyes to the irate face. Instead of trying to escape, they made an about face and suddenly clutched at the fur-covered arms of the adult who had found them.

"D-D-Dad-dy! You're here! D-Daddy! There w-was something after us!" Ilia bawled, attaching herself to her father as if he was saving her from falling off a cliff.

Link reached up and put his arms as far as they could go around the substantial waist. "Uncle Bo! O-oh, we found you! I'm sorry! I'm…sorry!"

"You two," the mayor sighed.

He awkwardly patted their heads and then pulled them back a bit, putting one large hand behind each small back. The little ones tilted their red-cheeked, teary faces up to meet his and looked down again, guilt written across their faces.

"Would you two mind explainin' to me what you're doin' wanderin' in the forest? Didn't you realize it's snowin'?! People get lost in these here woods and can just as easily get froze to death at this time of year!"

Neither Link nor Ilia could lift their eyes from the ground. The girl ventured very quietly, "We just wanted to see the golden wolf…"

The green eyes of the usually laid back man fixed themselves very sternly on the young miscreants. "You were both supposed to play outside and not go wanderin' off. It's dangerous! And Link, you should know better. You're the older one and you should be settin' a good example."

The boy gulped and hung his head even further. His words were hardly distinguishable. "I'm… I'm thorry…"

"It's not Link's fault," Ilia insisted. "I begged him to!"

"It doesn't matter. You should know better. There'll be some extra chores for the two of you, to teach you not to go runnin' off to places you ain't supposed to go," said Mayor Bo, lifting their chins and looking straight into their guilt-ridden eyes.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Y-Yes, sir."

"Okay then, young'uns. We'd best be gettin' back to the village before we all turn into snowmen! There's a surprise waitin' for you at the house. And there's another at your uncle's house."

The big man scooped up his little girl and she hugged him around the neck. He could have also picked up the boy, but that would have made quite an armful, plus he knew Link would not appreciate it.

"What's the surprise, Daddy?"

"If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise, would it dumplin'?"

His strong legs took them in quick strides from the vast dimness of Faron Woods to the friendlier collection of trees that nestled against the village. As they approached the path that led from the spirit's spring, Sera bustled into them from its beautifully frigid waters where she had been praying for the safe return of the young ones.

"Oh! You found them, Bo! Thank the heavens above!"

"They're safe and sound and I'm sure they won't be goin' off by themselves anytime soon."

Tiny little Beth, not even two years old yet, wriggled within her mother's arms and reached her own chubby ones out toward the boy. "Li! Li!" she cried.

"There, there, my little one, you can play later and in warmer surroundings than this. Brrr! It is cold!"

They hastened back to the dwellings which would welcome them with comforting fires, both parents bearing their little girls. Bringing up the rear was Link, who dragged his feet in the dust where his pride had already fallen. He had witnessed the distinctly disappointed look upon the features of a man in whom he held such respect, and he knew to his very soul that he had done a very naughty thing. Even now he certainly could not comprehend the myriad dangers that could have prevented both him and his best friend from ever leaving, but he did realize how truly foolish they had been. While he wished with most of his being that he had not given in to Ilia's pleas, a small part of him thought that he wasn't sorry for trying to make her happy. She was surely dissatisfied that they'd hadn't found the golden wolf and despite the trouble into which they'd immersed themselves, he still wished there was some way he could make that one desire of hers come to fruition.

Through the trees, the seven-year-old barely glimpsed the sacred spring and thought he saw something of a distinctly golden hue shining and standing in the center of the shallow waters, but when he jerked his head back for another look, he saw only falling snow and pale, silvery gray liquid. He stopped on the spot and stared, wishing he knew quite what it was he'd seen in that half-second glance.

"Link, lad, yer fallin' behind," came Bo's deep voice.

The boy hurried after them. Not ten minutes later they were removing their goatskin boots just inside the doors of that man's house. The mayor was usually so stern of mouth and tone, but upon nearing the building he had taken on an attitude that was very nearly gleeful. He was actually beaming and his eyes shone with unmistakable pride.

Ilia had not forgotten the promised surprise and hardly had the door shut behind them than she queried impatiently, "What's the surprise, Daddy? Can I see it now?"

"If you two are very quiet I'll show you. Come to the bedroom."

At that moment one of Link's boots slipped from his half frozen fingers and hit the floor with a _thunk_. Immediately, he grabbed it again and set it aside with the other one, hoping that he hadn't made the kind of noise against which Bo had cautioned them. He glanced up guiltily but was relieved that no one gave him any undue notice. As he followed his uncle and best friend into the darkened bedroom, he noticed briefly that Omelie was bustling about here instead of in her own home.

"Mama!" Ilia exclaimed, running to the high bed with wooden frame in which lay a blissfully happy, though exhausted woman.

"There you are, my little girl. I am glad your father brought you. Would you like to see your little brother?"

The six-year-old stopped short as she glimpsed the bundle containing a pink-faced, miniscule human with eyes that were firmly buttoned up and ears that seemed to just poke themselves out of the blanket in a very comical way. Her intention had been to clamber up to her mother and give her a big hug and wet kiss, but the sudden appearance of the tiny fellow perplexed her to such a degree she was reduced to goggling at him.

"Come, Link. You must take a look too. Isn't he beautiful?"

The mayor came around the other side of the bed and stood by his wife's side. She slipped her hand to him and he hid it in both of his thick ones. Link also approached and joined his friend in gawking at the softly slumbering infant.

"We've decided to call him Gilles," said the lady who had become a mother all over again.

"Well you two, don't just stand there," Bo muttered. "What do you think of the new addition to the family?"

"Where did he come from?" asked the boy, for his curiosity had grown with the younger generation of villagers.

"Hem…" Bo half-drawled, half-chuckled. "That's another tale for another time. What do you think of him? Isn't he a fine looking lad? He'll grow up to look just his mother and sister—look at that yeller hair!—and we'll teach him how to throw a ball and plant pumpkins and wrestle, won't we, Link? He's already twice as strong as me, anyway. If you put your finger in his hand, he'll hold onto it just as tight as he can, you see if he won't!"

The very obviously delighted man would likely have demonstrated his point if the baby hadn't been asleep. Link grinned and leaned nearer the child, wondering what he would be like when he was about Ruben's age.

"Ilia, you're awfully quiet. What's wrong?" Emeline asked.

The head of the small girl was bent, her mouth was pulled into a disagreeable little frown, and frustrated tears prickled at her eyes. She wouldn't look up at her parents, the baby, or her best friend.

"Come on, sweetie, you can tell us. Don't you like your brother?"

"…No," she whispered, and threw her face into the coverings at the side of the bed.

"Oh, sweetie…!" Emeline's voice wavered a bit and she could just barely reach to put her hand on her daughter's head. "Climb up here next to mama."

She mounted the bed with a little difficulty and there she leaned against her mother while squeezing big tears from her eyes.

"Dearie, why do you say that? He's not ugly, do you think, is he? What's the matter then?"

Ilia gulped and sobbed, wiped her nose on her sleeve and finally managed to give voice to her grief. "What do you want him f-for? D-Don't you love m-me still?"

She burst forth in fresh tears and tried not to look at the infant. From his point against the side of the bed, Link stroked at her hand but she pushed him away irately.

"My sweet little Ilia… My little girl who brings me my favorite wildflowers, my dear child whose cuts and bruises I have kissed, your father and I could never stop loving you. We love you so much, in fact, that we wanted to give you a little brother of your very own. We love both you and Gilles so very, very much."

"You…you do?"

"Of course we do. We are family and families love each other."

"Come here, my little girl," said Bo, holding his arms out to her, his voice just slightly husky. She went around her mother and he held her quite firmly in his broad arms.

Emeline moved her hand to the boy, who still stood watching with a keen eye. "And you too are a part of our family, aren't you Link?"

The boy nodded and looked worriedly at his friend.

"Do you think we love either of you better than the other?" the mayor inquired, fixing his daughter so that green eye met green eye.

"No," she mumbled, putting her nose to his stubbly neck.

"We could have a dozen children and we would still love you. It doesn't stop there, though. This village is like a big family and everyone looks out for everyone else. It's the way we work here. Do you understand, Ilia?"

She gave a halfway intelligible reply and sniffled; her father caressed her back. Emeline patted the boy's hands again and smiled very tiredly. They remained like that for some moments more, and then Omelie whisked into the room and suggested that the little ones come get something to eat.

A bit later, Link also saw the other "surprise" at Rusl and Uli's house. Their baby was just a little bit smaller and didn't have any hair, but the seven-year-old had a feeling he was going to like the infant that looked at him with the most adorable blue eyes and grabbed the boy's finger as if it belonged on his own hand rather than Link's.

And that was how two more children were welcomed into the village at the beginning of what turned out to be the heaviest snowstorm that province had seen in over two decades. Ordon received more precipitation by way of rain during the winter months, but they did occasionally receive snowfalls that delighted the children to no end. Two months later there were still small patches of the muddy snow mellowing in shady corners, and another newborn baby's cry could be heard from Jaggle and Pergie's millhouse.

~O~

One evening in late summer, with the heat of the day bringing a flush to sky and children alike, Link, Ilia, and several of the others were once again playing by the spirit's spring. Uli had asked eight-year-old Link to care for little Colin, who was almost eight months old and finding new freedom with his new mobility. Because Ilia was also tasked with keeping her small brother out of harm's way, she and her best friend decided to have a race with the two babies, to see which one could crawl to them first. They kept trying, but the blonde infants were much more interesting in splashing in the delightfully cool waters than they were in heeding the cries of "Come on, Gilles!" and "Colin, come on! Come to me!" Eventually they surrendered to the utter futility of their plan and sat at the bank with their feet tickling the edges of the spring.

"What are you thinking of, Link?" queried the girl, noting the faraway look in his eyes that meant his mind was elsewhere.

With a blink he found himself still sitting on the sand. "Oh, I was just thinking…about my parents."

"What about them? You don't know who they are, do you?"

"N-o-o…but I like to think about them and imagine who they are. I bet my mother is pretty and nice, and my father is brave and maybe he's a soldier like in some of Granny's stories."

"Link… Uhm… Why…why were you all alone in the woods when you were just a baby? Doesn't anyone know where you came from…or anything?"

"You remember Granny told us the whole story, right? How Uncle Rusl, Uncle Bo, and Uncle Juble were hunting in the woods and suddenly they saw the golden wolf. They knew they wouldn't be able to kill him even if they tried, but they followed him all the same. They moved quickly because they wanted to catch up to him, but they couldn't. He always kept a marked distance between them; he seemed to move between the trees like he was a ghost and left no evidence of his passing. Then the golden wolf disappeared altogether and the last place they saw him was at the base of an old, gnarly tree. When they examined the tiny cavern made below a couple of the trunk's massive roots, they found me all wrapped up in blankets. Granny says that I was sleeping until Uncle Bo picked me up," said Link, repeating the elderly lady's tale and borrowing many of her words because he'd heard it many a time since his own adventure with the golden beast.

"You started crying and didn't stop until they brought you to the village and Fado's mom nursed you," Ilia giggled.

"Yeah… I guess I was hungry all right," the boy said, with a bit of an embarrassed flush coming to his face. He had the distinct feeling that she had egged him on to get him to tell the story.

"Don't stop now. You haven't forgotten about the blanket you were wrapped in, have you?"

"Of course I didn't forget. The blanket was green, which Uncle Rusl says didn't really blend with the leaves in the rooty space where they found me. In the corner someone had embroidered my name and a little triangle in gold thread."

"That's how everyone knew what to call you! What would they have done if your name wasn't there?"

"I don't know. I suppose they would've picked one out. Maybe something great like the heroes and kings in some of Granny's books!"

"I couldn't imagine calling you anything else, Link. It would be so strange— Ah!" Suddenly, she noticed that her little brother was trying to sample some sand and she rushed forward to intercept his hand. "Gilles! Drop that! Don't put it in your mouth! Bad baby!"

"I know just what I'd like to call you, and it wouldn't seem strange at all. Heh heh," snickered a new voice.

He knew who it was before he turned around; Hyram stood behind him, one hand on hip and the other playing with a bit of grass in his mouth. The older boy drew closer in what he thought was a smooth stride until he stepped in a hollow of sand.

"Were you listening to us the whole time?" the eight-year-old sighed.

"'Course I was. This spring isn't your personal property, little boy."

Link had found it more advantageous to ignore those slights and he turned his eyes from Hyram to the little one he was supposed to be watching. Fortunately, Colin was a remarkably well-behaved infant and needed less supervision than Gilles. The older child came around and made a nuisance of himself by splashing the babies.

"I heard what you said about your parents. Want me to tell you something?"

Whether Link did or not was beside the point, and well he knew it; a small bit of him was curious about what Hyram would say, but he had a slight sinking feeling that it wouldn't have been anything he would like. He kept silent and didn't deign to give any eye contact.

"I heard my dad and the other adults talking about it one time. They were talking about you and why someone just left you in the woods like that. They said it was probably because your parents didn't care about you."

The face of the younger boy grew very red, his mouth assumed a very dark scowl, and his fearsomely aroused blue eyes seemed very wild and put a tremor in even Hyram's bravado. Before he could form any sort of scathing reply, someone else intervened most angrily, giving the eldest child a good shove.

"How dare you say such a thing!" cried Ilia, having rescued the sand from her brother, or vice versa. "You are mean-headed bully!"

"I really did hear it," the eleven-year-old insisted, folding his arms again and making a face at her.

"No you didn't. They would say that! You're lying again! I know you are!"

"How would you know? You're too little to know anything, missy. Anyway, this doesn't concern you. Go away, you annoying scrap!"

"I am not!" she cried, kicking at his shin and missing. "You… You…"

"You parsimonious blatherskite!" Link finished, after frantically searching his memory for some long and impressive-sounding words that he'd heard from Granny.

"Yeah!" the girl chimed in. "You're a persimmon brother-whatsit!"

Luckily enough for the younger boy, Hyram had no more idea what those words meant than he did, but they sure sounded insulting. His own eyes blazing with indignation, he moved almost menacingly closer to Link and roughly poked his finger to the eight-year-old's chest.

"You always think you're better than us, don't you?! You and your lofty pointed ears! Well, I say you're not! You're a wimp and you are always being defended by a girl!"

They remained like that for a good minute, glaring at each other. Ilia also stood very close and stabbed Hyram with her own wrathful gaze, but for the moment no one was giving the least bit of attention to her.

"And you are a coward! I bet you're too much of a coward to fight!"

Somehow, that statement so vociferated brought Link out of his blind, white flurry of anger. Upon shifting his gaze, he noted that the other children had ceased their little pleasurable activities and were staring with slightly frightened eyes at what was transpiring between the two boys. Fado finally managed to unfreeze himself and close his gaping mouth, Beth watched him with wide, lashy eyes, and Colin's dimpled little mouth was tugging downward, a sign that he was about to bawl.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" said the child with the mess of golden-brown hair. His eyes still burned with the desire to avenge the name of his unknown parents, and his hands remained clenched by his sides, but he was just aware and smart enough not to take the bait. "You'd like to beat me up in front of everyone. Well, I'm not going to fight you."

"See?" the eldest boy chortled. "You are afraid! You're nothing but a squawking cucco!"

"Shut up, Hyram!" Ilia commanded with fiercely lowering brow. "Link, come on, let's get out of here!"

They picked up the two babies and struggled a bit with them, bearing them back to the village. The girl muttered a few things under her breath as Hyram made cucco sounds and flapped his arms to their retreating backs, but Link was strangely silent. He was exceptionally quiet for the remainder of the evening and lay awake that night with a whole storm of tumultuous thoughts swirled about his brain.

Hyram always made fun of him for his lisping, he took every chance he could to tell Link he wasn't much more than a baby, he had disdained the younger boy's endeavors with pumpkin planting and goat rearing, and he took what seemed perverse pleasure in calling him names and causing discomfort or embarrassment. On the night of that snowy day on which Colin and Gilles had been born, the Hylian child had to move to Kern and Neta's house a bit sooner than expected; he slept in the small bed with Hyram, who whispered jeeringly to him about getting lost in the forest again. He made fun of Link's penchant for stories and storytelling, and of his simple little works of art which the younger boy was quite proud. He even scoffed at the existence of the golden wolf and the fact that the otherworldly beast had saved Link. What was really the last straw was the blatant disrespect of saying such things of his parents, combined with the nasty name-calling and insults, not just directed at himself, but at Ilia too.

Granny's advice of turning the other cheek hadn't been altogether ineffective, and ignoring the older boy only garnered more carefully chosen taunts. Link was so weary of everything that he'd been forced to endure because of that other child and he made up his mind, quite irrevocably, about what he was going to do.

He woke up during the fresh hours of the morning when the sun was just starting bring a pale blush to the bit of sky that he could see through the skylight of Jaggle and Pergie's house. He wondered if he dared go through with it, but he thought again of everything Hyram had said and told himself, firmly, that he would have to for the sake of his parents, who he was sure had loved him, and for his best friend. His dreams were still troubled, but he slumbered away the remainder of the early hours without waking again.

The next day, Link performed his chores with less exactness than he usually did, which drew the attention of several people. Sera scolded him for carelessness with the corn she had told him to shuck; in a tone a bit rougher than usual, Juble asked where his mind was when the boy started milking the same goat twice; and Rusl told him to leave the forge because he was not being attentive to the fact that there was a very hot fire burning therein. Later on, the boy went off, no one knew where, and stayed away until mealtime.

That night, when everyone had gone to bed and should have been asleep, one small figure crept from the millhouse, around a few obstacles, and through a few tiny dells seemingly created by shadows and moonlight. Link tried not to let the amplified noises of night unnerve him or distract him from his purpose as he crept to another of the buildings and pulled himself up to the little window under which he knew Hyram's bed was located. A bit awkwardly, he reached his hand through the open aperture and gave a tug at the sheet which covered the youth.

"Huh? Stop pulling," the eleven-year-old mumbled drowsily.

"Shhh. Hy, it's me," whispered the child with the sharply pointed ears as he shook a resistant arm.

The boy rose partway and hissed under his breath, "What are you doing?! Do you want to wake up my parents?"

"Come out and I'll tell you," replied Link, whereupon he dropped from the window and went around the corner of the house to wait near its main portal.

Not a minute later Hyram emerged, pulling down the shirt that he'd just donned and peering about for the one who had so disturbed him. "This had better be important. If I find out you dragged me out of bed for something stupid, I—"

"This is not stupid," he averred. "Let's go somewhere else where no one will hear us."

Without wasting a breath or waiting for a response, Link padded off on bare feet that were nearly as silent as those belonging to the golden wolf of which he was so fond. Hyram hesitated for a mere second or two; he was awake enough that his curiosity was also aroused, and thus did he follow until they were in the woods just beyond the very old treehouse.

"This is far enough," the younger of the two said, and turned slowly.

"Okay, so what do you want? You're going to really regret it if you've brought me all this way in the middle of the night 'cause you want to play a trick on me."

"No. I came out here so we could fight."

"W-What?" Hyram stuttered.

"You thaid you wanted to fight, didn't you?"

"Yes, but… I didn't think…you ever would…"

"Well, I do. Are you ready?"

"Wait now… You're not going to tell everyone I beat you up, are you? What a sneaky, lowdown—"

"I'm not going to tell anyone. You have to keep it a secret, too. I don't want anyone to know. Do you promithe you won't tell?"

"Psh! I don't need to promise anything! You're going to be sorry you tried fighting me, brat."

Link just assumed a very slight, nervous sort of smile that, combined with the intermittent moonlight and the shadows of the be-leafed trees, seemed just a bit unsettling to the human who faced him. "Are you ready?"

"Ready? There was never a time I wasn't ready. I'm going to rub that little face of yours into the dirt!"

They stood just a little bit apart from each other and Hyram took the first swing, which, if it had connected, would have hit the other boy just below the eye. He kept throwing his rather clumsy punches, but most of them missed. At first the younger boy traded very few blows, which were not much better directed than those which he ducked and dodged.

All the boys of Ordon received instruction to some degree or another from Mayor Bo on the ways of defending themselves with mere fists. The young ones often distained those lessons with the excuse that they would never have use for such skills, but it seemed that Link had paid a bit more attention than his opponent. The eight-year-old watched Hyram very carefully, noting his every move and the way he threw his fists, and then he began reciprocating jab for jab.

They followed no especial set of rules. Link was smaller and lighter than the elder child, but it made it easier for him to duck wild punches and to get around his opponent. Hyram was both perplexed and irate that the battle wasn't going as he thought it would; his frustration caused him to be a mite careless. Sometimes they got into a clinch or fell to the ground, and delivered blows at very close quarters; because he was at a disadvantage under such circumstance, Link separated himself as rapidly as he could, which was not necessarily an easy prospect. They trampled and rolled over every small plant that had the misfortune of being in their way and any nearby animals that had settled down for the night were startled into sudden flight.

The breath of both boys came in ragged gasps as they tumbled to the ground once again; their energies just about spent but still stubborn, they arose and viewed each other warily. Their punches were hardly making contact anymore; after several of these fruitless swings, they collided again, got all tangled up in a mass of arms, legs, and flailing fists, and fell once more to the turf with a few last, much weakened blows.

They rolled away from each other but were simply too exhausted to do anything else but to respire heavily. Their hearts beat twin rhythms in their heaving chests, their clothes and especially their shirts were begrimed, torn, and saturated with sweat, and their faces stung with contusions and abrasions. Their hands and bared arms were also quite dirty and scratched, and their knuckles and hands in little better condition than the aforementioned faces.

"Have you…had…enough?" said Link between gasps for air, as he turned his head toward his companion.

"Y-Yeah…" the other boy muttered; five minutes ago he wouldn't have said that, but now he was too fatigued to care.

The child with the pointed ears smiled just a bit. "That…was a…good fight! I hope…I didn't hurt you…too much… I didn't mean to… I just wanted to thow you…I'm not afraid…"

"Heh…heh… I'm okay… You hit pretty hard… for a little kid."

Hyram actually grinned at him and they clasped hands tightly as they lay there, letting their lungs catch up to their wildly galloping breath. After a time, they rose and looked at each other; for once the elder boy's expression was not one of derision or scorn but actually held a smattering of respect.

"What time is it?" Link queried quietly around his split lip. "I guess we should get back…"

"Yeah. My dad'll probably lick me good if he finds out I sneaked out of the house. But of course no one would do that to you." The last part he uttered rather bitterly.

The smaller child viewed him with a bemused expression. "Uh… Your nose is bleeding."

"So's yours. Boy, if my mother saw us she'd throw a fit. I guess we should wash off in the spring before we go back."

"Okay."

The two boys started off and a slightly embarrassed Hyram took the lead. As they were nearing the sacred spot, Link scurried to catch up and he turned his head slightly to look at his companion through the dimly lit forest path.

"Um, Hy? What did you mean before?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"When you said no one would lick me. What did you mean?"

By this time they reached the moonlit place of the light sprit, whereupon they crouched or knelt in the spring, removed their shirts and began splashing the water to their varied scrapes and contusions.

"Don't pretend you don't know," the eleven-year-old replied, sullenly.

"But I don't. Why'd you say it?

Hyram turned his eyes from the task of stubbornly scrubbing at the splats of blood that had blemished his shirt. "You're everyone's favorite," he muttered at last.

Link could not have been more dumbfounded. He pulled his bruised, dripping left hand from the softly glistening waters and just stared with mouth agape. "I-Is that what you think?"

"Isn't it obvious? Everything you do is worthy in their eyes. You plant pumpkins, you help with the goats, you take care of the kids and you get trusted with things I didn't when I was eight. You never get yelled at for doing something wrong. You're good at everything and it's not fair!"

At that moment the younger boy realized something rather astounding. Kneeling in the spirit's spring, with shoulders bent and a sopping shirt resting on his legs, Hyram was crying. He tried his utmost to disguise it, with his averted face and the slight hitching of his breath which he did not quite succeed in controlling. Link gaped at him, his jaw slack and his own doffed garment forgotten.

"Is that why you don't like me?"

"I guess. It's hard to like someone who's perfect."

"But I'm not. Granny says no one is perfect and if we were we'd be awfully boring. You should have heard Aunt Sera yell at me for what I did with the corn."

"What did you do?"

"U-Uh," Link stuttered, wiggling his toes. The color of embarrassment upon his cheeks was not especially discernable in the moonlight. "Umm…"

"Come on, tell me!"

"Well… I accidentally gave the corn to the goats, instead of the husk."

"Boy, that was a dumb thing to do!" Hyram guffawed.

The child with the pointed ears pouted. "You don't have to laugh about it. It wasn't funny. By the time I got back to the goats they'd eaten most of the corn and Aunt gave a lecture about wasting good food."

"Yeah, I've heard that one. Still, it is funny! Ha ha ha!"

"Stop it, Hy!" exclaimed the young boy, flinging water at his companion.

Hyram spluttered and grinned quite good-naturedly this time. "You're going to pay for that, you little…!"

They forgot their scrapes and the cleansing of their shirts and launched into quite a splashing tournament. They laughed uproariously, chased each other around and around the area, choked on water that flew up their noses, and could but barely see what they were doing. Their shirts drifted to the very edges of the spring, with some of the grime slowly bleeding from them.

The sport ended when the boys glimpsed a deer in the moonlight several yards away. It was a magnificent buck which lifted his splendidly antlered head to gaze with some suspicion at the trespassers who had invaded his watering place.

"Wow, look at that," whispered Link. "Isn't he great?"

Both stood motionless as the animal dipped his head and drank, still keeping one eye on them. He hadn't yet satisfied his thirst when the older child shifted a foot in the water, causing a ring of ripples around him; the buck started, whipped up his head and looked at them warily. He seemed to have decided he'd had enough and the next second saw him bounding into the trees and brush.

Hyram flopped into the water again with a sharp exhalation. "Yeah, I guess he was pretty great looking. Did you see those antlers of his? They must have at least sixteen points!"

"He was surprised to find us here," said the younger boy as a single shiver coursed through him.

"Uh-huh," the elder replied, absently. "Boy, I wish I had some huge antlers like that."

"Oh, I know! We can ask Uncle Bo and maybe Uncle Rusl if we can look for some antlers when the deer shed them!"

"It's not easy finding the antlers, you know. Squirrels and other animals will eat them. If we were to find some we'd have to do it just after they fall off."

"I could help you. I bet we could find some nice antlers if we look together."

Hyram smiled a bit crookedly and muttered, "Yeah, I suppose we could try. You're not such a bad kid after all."

"Just don't ever say those things about my parents," said Link, involuntarily clenching the fingers of his left hand. "I… I know they must have loved me… Don't ever say anything bad about them!"

"Okay, okay! I won't. Don't get yourself all twisted up! I guess I better not say anything about them or you'll pick a fight with me, huh?"

"Maybe I would," replied he of the pointy ears, smiling a bit and loosing his fist.

They clasped hands briefly; then the drenched boys located and gathered up their discarded shirts and began trudging the path back to their homes. The forest enshrouded by night felt eerie to the younger child, and now that his tremendous resolve, which had kept him from thinking about much else, was no longer with him, he was glad for another human presence nearby. Perhaps Hyram, too, was a mite disconcerted by the myriad of strange and unknown shadows around them; he moved with rapid strides and quick glances around him.

Tiptoeing into the village, they separated, crept back to their homes and gave way to slumber within minutes. The next morning, both Pergie and Neta found a small heap of damp, discarded clothing by the sides of their beds and shook the boys to wakefulness and an explanation.

"Link!" exclaimed a harried Pergie around the wails of infant Talo. "Why are these wet things on the floor?! You know where the clothesline is. Go out and hang these things to dry right now!"

"Yes, aunt," he mumbled, rubbing at eyes that still seemed half full of dreams.

He tripped outdoors, feeling sore from the late-night, unaccustomed exercise, and met Hyram at the big clothesline between the two houses. The latter raised a sleepy-eyed head and glanced at the approaching boy.

"Hey, Link. Did you get yelled at for the same thing?"

"Uh huh. Aunt told me to hang these up."

Link pulled over a wooden box so that it was below one of the strung cords, mounted it, and threw his clothes over one of the lines. Neither he nor Hyram had yet learned the importance of hanging garments in a manner that they would more rapidly dry, something for which the ladies remonstrated them later.

By midmorning, every villager above the age of three knew that the two boys had been involved in a fight. The adults questioned them to some degree, but both were quite reticent about it. Even without confirmation, everyone could tell by viewing the bruises upon face and arm that they had tussled and Link certainly hadn't lost.

"Do you think you should talk to him?" asked a concerned Uli of her husband.

"Why? Those two are fine and getting along better than they ever have. Don't worry about Link, dear. Boys need to fight every once in a while and he is a tough little fellow."

It was quite true. Hyram still teased Link at times, but the elder boy exhibited more respect for the younger. He suggested the next year that Hyram should help him plant the pumpkins and the twelve-year-old learned the pleasure of helping harvest the great orange pumpkins. His father rewarded his work with a trip to Castle Town for the sale of their produce and other goods. When a nine-year-old Link climbed a tree to coax down Ilia's cat, he had a tumble and sprained his ankle; the eldest youth laughed at first and then aided his hobbling junior to the house where he was staying. Before winter was fully upon them, they located a fine set of antlers in the woods and Hyram proudly displayed them on the wall over his bed.

The children were as contented as young things like them could be, the adults were satisfied with another year's bounteous harvest and settled comfortably into their familiar winter routines, and Sera was expecting another child, quite torn on whether she wanted a boy or another girl. Ordon Village seemed quite the idyllic place it been and no one doubted anything but that their good fortune would continue to be so. Only Granny's eyes saw the grief that was to come as she looked to the dark clouds shadowing the distant fields and hills.

"Great hardships and much suffering come our way…" she muttered.

* * *

 _As always, I greatly appreciate feedback from anyone who has read and enjoyed this._ _ _Do the characters seem like those you know in the game? Which one(s) might you especially like?_ If you have a few minutes or moments to spare, please let me know what you thought. Coming up next is another chapter for my OoT story!  
_

 _See you later..._

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03-10-2016 ~ Published


	3. Summer of Sun-Burned Fields

_It's been much, much too long since I updated this story. I am very sorry it's taken me so long, but I must say I am glad to finally have this chapter complete. Sometimes getting something written down that I like is a real struggle for me. I never forget my stories in progress, however long it takes me to update. Thank you all for your patience and especially to Arison Nakaru. You've been wonderful!_

 _The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess and all its characters and places still belongs to Nintendo._

* * *

 **Ith How the World Crumbles**

Chapter 3: Summer of Sun-Burned Fields

"Why she sad?" little Colin asked, hanging back and clinging to Ilia's hand as she stroked the blue flank of a beloved goat.

"She's sad because she lost her kids," the girl replied softly.

"Why? Where'r dey?" he quizzed, eying the animal rather warily from around Ilia's shoulder.

She didn't pause to correct the mistakes of a two-year-old tongue. "She…she just lost them, that's all." She blinked several times in an attempt to keep the tears back, and again looked at her best friend. "…You'll understand when you're a little older, Colin."

She continued petting the indigo hide, while her other hand had been captured and drawn back by ten fingers still plump with baby fat. Even as the girl spoke, Link held Fern's head in his hands and seemed to be whispering things none but the faithful goat could hear. He stroked her face; whenever she bleated so quietly his eyes became just a bit moister as he murmured and smoothed the hair under her chin. The few splashes of clear liquid present on her face could have been evidence of her grief, except for the fact that goats have no tear ducts.

Just an hour before, the children had buried the two tiny doelings at the edge of the little forest clearing in which they liked to play. Fado willingly lent his large hands to the digging process of the single, two-foot-deep grave. Both Ilia and Link had decided that the two kids, one stillborn, the other following shortly after a few breaths, should be together in death; they wrapped the tiny bodies in a worn-out, outgrown shirt which belonged to golden-haired boy and lowered them to their final resting place.

Ilia turned her head away as the boys solemnly filled the hole once again; her eyes flitted to Hyram, who was standing apart from them a bit, and leaning with one fist against a tree. She felt a quick burst of irritation at him for being there. What was he doing, anyway? He wasn't aiding in the labor of digging or filling and every few seconds his jaw moved, betokening that he was working on a bit of spruce gum. He caught her gaze and straightened his posture almost imperceptibly; his own eyes slowly drifted back to Link's bent head and shoulders as he and Fado shoveled the last remnants of the disturbed soil.

The task complete, the child with the pointed ears wiped at the sweat on his forehead and nodded to Fado. Then he stepped toward the eldest boy. "Thanks for coming, Hy," he said simply, grime covering his face, neck, and arms. Even at almost ten years old he was developing some muscle.

"Heh," the other half-snorted. "At least those whiny little kids aren't here. I can't stand their dumb questions."

"Hey!" Ilia glowered at him. "I know he's annoying sometimes, but don't you talk about my little brother like that!"

Hyram held up his hands in mock defeat. "I didn't mean it like that, you know. I just think they would have spoiled an occasion like this."

The girl relaxed. "Well, we left them at home because we didn't want them to be in the way. They're too little to understand a funeral anyway." She lifted her head as she said it.

Link tried to muster a smile and he shifted his gaze between his best friend and the boy with whom he was still learning to be friends. His thoughts, however, were wandering toward the barn and the mother who'd lost both her doelings.

"Yeah. Colin might have been all right, but the other two…" Fado commented. "Talo would'a been all in the hole and poking the dead little goats. He and Gilles are such a pair, my mom says."

"Colin isn't any better," Hyram added with some scorn. "He's such a mama's boy. Every time I see him he's clinging to someone's hand."

"That doesn't mean you have to make fun of him," Ilia retorted. "He's only two."

Whatever rejoinder was about to escape the throat of the eldest boy was lost to time as Link quietly announced his intention to withdraw. With a nod to the others, he began moving away.

"Wait, Link! I'll come with you," the girl called after him. She made just two hurried steps and then suddenly turned back to the thirteen-year-old. "…Thanks for coming, Hyram. It was a nice thing to do. I suppose Gilda didn't want to?"

"Nah," he replied. "My cousin thinks animals are 'horrid creatures'." He took pleasure in holding two sets of doubled fingers in an exaggerated motion. "She's dumb." He bit his lip to keep from adding that girls in general were dumb.

"Well, thank you," she said again, not knowing what else she could really say.

She turned, her somewhat forced smile fading as she followed her best friend. Fado, with an equally glum expression on his well-tanned face, took up both shovels and dragged them back. Though he'd always liked Fern, he wished he could become as skilled and attached to the goats as both his father and Link seemed to be.

A short time later when the children were still in the barn, Juble came hurtling through the doorway and hurried toward a couple of pitchforks and a lantern that hung upon the wall. Only when he was about to exit again did he notice the miserable threesome clustered around the grieving animal.

"What're y'all doing here?!" he demanded, a strange sort of urgent ferocity in his tone. "Get back to yer homes, d'ye hear me?!"

The two older children jumped up. As if he could sense some kind of danger, Link's hand stole to that of his best friend and looked to see that Colin was peeking out between the two of them.

"What do you mean, Uncle Juble?"

"What's wrong?" Ilia inquired, a nervous tremor creeping to her voice.

"No time for questions! Go on, get!" he shouted, rapidly ushering them outside.

The large man scooped up the smallest child and loped back to the village proper, where he unceremoniously left Colin on the mayor's porch. By that time the toddler was crying; as Link and Ilia ran up, the girl went to the side of the two-year-old and put her arm around him while her large eyes darted from Juble to her friend. Link looked around, knowing something serious was happening but yet unable to figure out what. He too watched as the rancher hurried to meet Rusl and Hanch on the other side of the stream; the blacksmith carried his sword and Beth's father awkwardly held a rather short, stout bow. Before he could see where the men headed, the abrupt sound of a door opening arrested the boy's attention.

"There you are, Ilia!" Emeline exclaimed, withdrawing from the safety of the house to put her arms around her daughter. "Come inside, hurry! No, not a word of protest! You too, Link!"

The girl clung to her mother with one hand; meanwhile, the mayor's wife all but dragged them inside, upon which she immediately turned and bolted the door. Colin was wailing and begging pitifully for his own mommy while Link patted his shoulder and nervously alternated his gaze between him and the fair-haired lady.

"Mama, what's happening?!" Ilia's tone broke with fear and she grabbed for the end of her mother's shirt.

Emeline knelt on one of her thick rugs and pulled the children closer. "Shhhh, shhh, it's okay, my dears. You're safe. We're all safe right here." She picked up the smaller boy and hushed him gently.

"But Mama…!"

The mayor's wife put one hand behind her daughter's head and tilted it upwards until their eyes met. "Now Ilia, I told you we're safe. I will explain everything to you and Link but first we have to calm poor Colin. You don't want to frighten him anymore, do you?"

She shook her head quickly but still kept a firm hold on Emeline's embroidered garment. The girl again gazed toward her friend; he had moved around to his aunt's back and had proceeded to make all manner of goofy faces for the benefit of the little fellow who wailed inconsolably. The woman murmured softly to Colin, held him close and rubbed his back. Ilia gulped the protest that rose to her lips, sniffled once and, loosing her mother's hem, joined Link in playing peek-a-boo.

His sobs morphing into little hiccups, Colin finally quieted. By that time, the others had moved to the back room where Gilles had all the time been blissfully playing with some unevenly shaped blocks. Emeline set the second blonde boy on the floor and there he remained, gnawing at his thumb and watching the formation and immediate destruction of several little towers. The mayor's wife drew just a short distance away and bade the two older children follow her. She seated herself on one of Bo's stump stools and drew her daughter closer. Link leaned against her knee.

"My dears, I am glad you are here, safe with me. You see, Jaggle spotted a monster of some sort and all the men have gone to hunt it down. That is why Juble was in such a hurry. But do not worry…nothing can harm us here."

Ilia trembled and burrowed a little further into her mother. She knew how much she was acting like a clingy toddler, but she found it most unnerving to have such a fearful thing in their peaceful little village where nothing happened outside of the usual childish hijinks. She figured that her best friend put on a braver face than did she, but she was too preoccupied to look at him. The boy shivered as he recalled the nasty creature from which the golden wolf had saved him and he too drew closer to his aunt.

"Are they going to be okay?" came her muffled voice.

Link chimed in, "Yeah, they'll be okay, won't they? Uncle Juble took the pitchforkth!"

"Of course they will," the lady replied, though her own voice held a thread of uncertainty.

The children looked at each other, concern lighting a blaze in their eyes. Ilia was certainly most worried about her father, but her best friend could not have chosen which uncle he should most be worried about if perfect speech depended on it.

"But what about Fern?" he asked, trying to keep the tremble he felt at his fingertips from traveling up and coming out his lip.

"She'll be fine. The men won't let it anywhere near the barn or the goats. Now, we're not going to sit around worrying," Emeline declared as she rose from her seat. "Ilia, why don't you come to the kitchen with me and we'll fix up something for the men when they get back. Link, you can stay here and play with the little ones, unless you'd rather help us."

"I'll…stay here," he replied after a moment of thought.

He squeezed his friend's hand before she quit the room with her mother and then he turned to look at the toddlers. He wished he did not have to be alone with them, but at the same time he would not go with the females as he was afraid he would embarrass himself in his nervousness. Though he squatted on the floor and tried to entice Gilles to share his toys, his mind was swimming with thoughts and concerns. Fear of the unknown, creeping up his spine like a vine of ivy, brought a furrow to his brow and a frown to his lips. He snapped at Ilia's brother for monopolizing all the blocks and the younger child retaliated by throwing three of those items, one of which hit Link in the cheek.

"Ow, that hurt!" he cried petulantly, shaking Gilles' shoulder. "You naughty little boy! Don't throw things at me."

The exasperating little child stuck out his tongue and proceeded playing as merrily as he had previously. With a little sound from Colin, Link realized the other two-year-old was devolving into tears again; with an exaggerated sigh he took the chubby hand and led him to the other side of the room. He wanted to express his concerns about the safety of the village and the sinking feeling that was like a rock to his stomach, but most of all he wanted to avoid more grief on the part of the other boy. Instead, he began tracing his finger in the dirt of the floor, creating a crude illustration of the small child who watched him, knuckle in mouth. Then he began to trace the letters which Granny had taught him, and explained each one to Colin even though he was too little to understand.

After a time, Gilles tired of playing alone with mere chunks of wood and he padded over to learn what the other two were doing so quietly on their side of the room. "Col?" he said, sticking a couple of fingers to the other toddler.

"Gill, stop that," Link warned him as he glanced from his spelling. "It isn't nice to poke someone."

The unheeding child prodded Colin again and the latter shrank away. "No, no," he whimpered, looking to the elder boy for deliverance.

What Link really wanted to do was allow his anxiety and fear to channel into anger at the little pest. "Gilles…" he repeated, both voice and ire rising, but then he stopped. Granny had always taught him that the elder children must set an example for the younger. It would be so easy to snap at Gilles to make him behave for all of a few minutes, but when he imagined Granny's disappointed look he clamped his mouth shut. What was he supposed to say, then?

"Gill, stop poking Colin right now." He sighed and scooted closer to both toddlers. "Look, I'll show you how to make letters in the dirt, okay?"

The timid child rose on pudgy legs and scrambled behind Link. With no one left to torment, Gilles commenced running his feet back and forth over the impressions in the dirt with a grim little expression on his grubby face. Though he ruined several of the Link's letters, the elder boy found that he hardly cared about their destruction. As he encouraged Gilles to draw in the floor his thoughts drifted outside.

Though he trembled at the mere thought of seeing the monster his uncles hunted, the desire to do something of use expanded in his chest until he felt like the room was closing in on him. The motions of his dominant hand slowed almost to nothing a few times as he thought of his goat and friend, depressed and alone in a stable of other goats who paid no attention to her. What if the monster-creature-thing somehow managed to evade the notice of the men who hunted it and sneak into the barn? He shivered again at the mental image of the monster jumping on Fern, and his imagination provided enough terrified screams to set his knees to quivering. Setting his jaw, he resolved upon a course of action.

As Colin seemed to be falling asleep and Gilles was more rolling around on the floor than drawing in the dirt any more, Link had no trouble in slipping quietly away from them. If Ilia saw him she'd want to join him and he would never consent to pulling her into danger with him; if her mother saw him she would stop him. He glanced toward the kitchen where they worked and saw his best friend peeling a potato; he knew if he breathed shallowly and carefully avoided all the many squeaky parts of the floor, he was sure he could get past them unnoticed.

Taking that route proved to be as complex and involved as going through a maze, requiring him to crawl under the mayor's big desk and stepping up on one of the shelves. He barely breathed as he tiptoed his way across the floor, but he reached the door at last. His hand on the knob, he was on the verge of silently letting himself outside when something grabbed at the leg of his trousers.

"Where'r, Li?"

He turned and found a blue-eyed toddler staring up at him. "Shh, Colin," he cautioned, putting a finger to his lips. "You're not supposed to be here." His eyes darted toward the door-less entryway to the kitchen and then he lowered himself to the two-year-old's level. "Go back and play, Colin. You can't come with me."

With mouth forming into a most pitiable pout, Colin fixed him with large baby eyes and clung to him. "Li…"

Link did his best to detach the child. "Stay here. I'll be back in just a few minutes, okay?" He stood and again placed his hand on the knob.

"And where do you think you're going, young man?"

The nine-year-old swung around again and gulped. With a spoon in one fist and the other hand placed on her hip, Emeline stood and viewed him disapprovingly from the kitchen entryway. At her mother's side was Ilia, who stared at him with expression devoid of her usual smile.

"I asked you a question, Link. What are you up to?"

"Uh…" he mumbled, lowering his eyes to the wood floor. "I, um, I just wanted to see Fern."

Ilia drew nearer as her face scrunched into a larger frown. "But it's dangerous out there! Mother said so!"

"Ah, what am I to do with you, Link?" The mayor's wife simultaneously shook her head and her spoon at him. "You must stay here, dear boy."

His gaze rested upon his bare feet and his mood lay somewhere around his toes. With both hands Colin caught again at his trouser leg and kept saying his name. In his current mood, Link might have shoved the little fellow away but he simply couldn't bring himself to be that mean.

"I only wanted to make sure she's safe," he muttered. He would not allow the tears that stung the corners of his eyes to escape.

His best friend came to him and put a sticky hand on his arm; he did not resist but he also kept his head down. Emeline also drew near and picked up the blonde toddler.

"Come to the kitchen, Link," she bade him, gesturing with her spoon. "We'll talk more there."

He allowed Ilia to lead him away from the door and soon found himself in the kitchen. The woman set Colin in one corner away from the fireplace and gave him a potato and carrot to amuse himself. She returned to the pot over the fire which held a mixture of meat, herbs and milk simmering inside, while at the table her daughter finished rolling some dough.

"Don't fret so, dear… Your goat'll be fine."

"Are y-you sure?" he asked, gulping as he imagined worst case scenarios again. "She's so sad she might not fight back. I don't want her to be hurt."

"And that's exactly why I can't allow you to go outside right now."

Lifting his head, Link met the eyes of the woman who stopped her cooking to stand before him. He blinked a couple of times and ran a hand down the side of his face.

"I know you're worried about your goat. How worried do you think I would be if you went out there?" Emeline asked simply. She fixed him with a long look before she turned back to food preparations.

A germ of understanding sprouted in the boy's mind like the grain the villagers raised in their fields. He wanted no less to go to Fern, but he knew he could circumvent his aunt's order until they knew it was safe. Meanwhile, he allowed Ilia to involve him in her task and he remained in the kitchen until the food was prepared. Then they all returned to the back room where they shared the repast and amused the toddlers.

When the men returned, darkness shrouded the land and a light drizzle of rain dampened everything and everyone. Only Rusl and the mayor entered through the front doors; the other men instead returned to their homes and families. Emeline offered to share the meal with the blacksmith, but Rusl declined, picked up his slumbering son and was gone with a few final words and a goodnight. Meanwhile, Bo wearily sat himself at the table and his wife placed portions of her cooking on a plate. The two shared a brief look as she set it before him.

"You look tired, dear. Eat now and tell me about your search. The others are well?"

Attempting to remain as inconspicuous as possible, the two children loitered nearby as soon as he had come in. Unable to contain themselves anymore, they pressed closer.

"Did you find the monster?" Link asked, pulling at his own fingers. "Did you kill it?"

"Are you okay, Father? You're not hurt?!"

Emeline placed both hands on her hips and stared them down. "Children! Don't bother your father so! Give him a chance to eat!"

The faces of both children drooped in disappointment. "But…" Ilia protested.

"Go on, now! It's past your bedtime. Go right upstairs and take Gilles with you."

Link's expression was like that of a kicked puppy. Ilia raised her head again. "But Mama…"

"Wait just a minute now," Bo groused, thumping a hand to the table and raising himself in the chair just a bit. "I s'pose they have the right to know."

The woman quirked her lips. "Hmhm. Well, if you don't mind, Bo, then I suppose… But you children must march right off to bed after that, understood?"

They nodded quickly and again drew near the mayor. He turned his gaze from his wife and Ilia, being the perceptive young thing that she was, paused as she noticed the tiredness lying behind the sternness of his gaze. She nudged her best friend and glance at him; he'd seen too.

"We did not kill the beast, but we surely wounded it. It won't be bothering our flocks anytime soon now," the man informed them. "We're all tired but we're not hurt, except Juble got his arm kinda scratched up."

"Everything's…okay, then?" the girl asked.

Link could only stare, hardly daring to believe they were quite safe after all that fretting and worrying.

"Yes, duckling," he replied, and she almost thought he was going to pull her into his lap, something he hadn't done in some time.

"All right, now, off you two go to bed!" Emeline said, ushering them from the kitchen and not considering further protest.

Between them, Ilia and Link dragged a stubbornly reluctant two year old to the loft, managed to divest him of the clothes he'd been wearing all day and get him into the bed which both boys shared. The two older children whispered to each other and neither of them had plans to join Gilles just yet; they had to make sure he was asleep first, as they did not want him to follow them. It took all of five minutes, in which Ilia checked every ten seconds whether her brother's eyes were closed, and Link kept peeking over the top of the stairs in an attempt to hear something.

"…Monster got a couple of the goats," grumbled Bo.

That was the first thing the two children heard as they crept near. Link's breath caught in his throat and he had to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from making a sound. Ilia's hand found his and they both leaned nearer to catch every word, their hearts tripping through what felt like a field of brambles.

Emeline exclaimed quietly, grimly, "Oh no!" She continued to rub her towel over the clean dish in her hands. "First with the ones who died in the kidding, and now this…"

"Which is why we're startin' a watch at night. We can't let that blasted monster get any more of our livestock!"

The children could not see, but the woman's eyebrows furrowed and her lips tilted downward. Finally she seemed to realize the dish she held was long past being dry and she set it aside. "Is Juble all right?"

"The beast jumped him and he fought it off, but it chewed up his arm. It looked bad enough that it might not heal properly."

His wife's reply was a look, a further twisting of her lips.

"The boys will have to help more with the goats, with Juble with a bad arm. Fado is the logical one, and Link too. He's good with them goats."

Several moments of near silence followed, in which the children held their breaths for fear of being discovered. Bo inhaled a few more bites of his wife's cooking while she kept her hands busy in her kitchen and making sure he had enough to eat. The slight patter of raindrops punctuated the silence like tiny hands trying to push their way into the house.

The mayor lowered his spoon and stood, pushing his chair back with a loud scraping sound. "This is the first rain we've had in two months. I only hope it lasts."

However, that drizzle faded to nothingness before an hour had slipped away, and several months would pass before the village was again bathed in the life-giving tears of the heavens. The villagers awoke early the next morning, some with the hopes of finding the ground soaked through, but little else than the dust was affected.

Link's dreams the night before had been filled with images of his beloved goat, for he had not known for sure if she was well and whole, and he had not dared to interrupt the adults when he and Ilia were meant to be in bed. When he woke the next morn, his thoughts did not center on the rain or lack thereof. He sneaked from the house by climbing out the window; he ran all the way up the hill to the barn, slipped inside and when he found his horned friend he threw himself on her in a frenzied hug.

"You're okay. You're thafe!" he mumbled into her fur.

She bleated woefully.

A short time later when Juble entered the barn, followed reluctantly by his son, they both found Link at work milking those goats who were not nursing at all or who only had one kid. As he was so relieved that Fern was unharmed but concerned over the fact that she was so forlorn, he wanted to stay close as he could to her.

"Next time tell someone where you run off to, boy," the big rancher said, his thick eyebrows furrowed and his mouth turned down in a dark frown. His right arm was almost twice its normal size, as it was completely swathed in bandages. "Have you been milkin' this whole time?"

Link's fingers paused for a moment as he looked up at the man. He gulped a little as he saw that some blood had seeped through the bandages. "Um, no, Uncle Juble. I had to make sure Fern was safe…"

"You spend far too much time motherin' that goat. Let her look after herself!" He motioned to his son. "Fado, you and Link finish the milkin'. Let the goats out to graze, but do not let them go to the far pastures, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," both boys replied quickly.

With another grimace, Juble stalked from the barn. Link turned back to his task, his face tight and his pride smarting after that remark. Fado, too, looked utterly dejected as he stared at the many does in their stalls, a pail hanging loosely in his fingers. The poor goat who had Link attending to her probably wondered what happened to him, as he seemed to have forgotten how to be gentle.

For all his ire and frustration, his thoughts were diverted when he heard the other boy making a strange, half muffled sound in his throat. Link left the side of the doe he was milking and padded toward his friend. Fado, his shoulders hunched miserably, kept leaning toward the side of one of the goats and drawing back almost as quickly. Tears rolled down his cheeks and after every attempt he used his hand to push the moisture back, like piling more sticks against a failing dam. He didn't even notice the approach of the other child.

Link was unsure whether he should say something or not. "Fado?" he mumbled, after that moment of hesitation.

The other boy jerked and averted his face still more while he scrubbed away at the tears. His shoulders jumped as he tried to swallow his emotion.

The Hylian child knocked his brains about for a reason his friend should be upset. "Your dad is all right, isn't he?" he questioned.

Fado nodded his head slightly.

Link glanced toward the barn door as if he expected Juble to come stomping over the threshold. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't nervous, that he didn't care if the rancher scolded them for not doing their job, but he was not fully successful in so doing. He still bristled at the words the man had thrown at him, but he did not want to be on the receiving end of his temper.

Again the larger boy reached for the doe's teats, but she swiveled her head to look at him. He snapped his hands back as if she'd bitten him. "I'm… afraid," whispered he.

For a second, the golden-headed boy scrunched his brows and cocked his head in puzzlement. Then his eyes widened as he recalled how many times he'd helped Fado out by doing the milking for him, or rubbing down a sick goat, or basically anything else that had to do with getting close to the animals. It was hard for him to believe at first, as Fado was certainly bigger than Link, almost as big as the adult goats.

"It's okay. She won't bite you."

"I'm scared," Fado mumbled again, scooting back on the floor of the barn and drawing up his knees. "…D-do you remember when we were little and the goats trampled us?"

The other child shrugged. He'd been knocked about by the blue-furred creatures more times than he could count, earning himself bruises and broken bones; almost every time Juble had remonstrated him because he'd been doing something to annoy a goat, whether intentional or not. There were times after these mishaps when he was wary or even a bit afraid of the animals, but was too foolish or else too stubborn to give up.

"When I get close…I think about that…and I can't do it!" Fado looked at the large blue body of the goat, at her strong legs and hooves, and her head with the unique but terrifying horns. "And…if my dad finds out he'll be so mad!"

"I gueth they are kinda scary sometimes," Link said. "But they're also really nice when you get to know them. This one, I call her Britha. You see how she keeps looking at you?"

"Yeah, she doesn't want me to touch her."

The smaller child shook his head. "Her udder is full and she wants for you to milk her." He put both his hands under her chin, causing her to raise her head as he murmured a few comforting words to her. "She may be nervous because she doesn't know you very well or your touch. Pat her side a few times before you reach down and keep talking to her so she knows what you're doing."

"B-but what if she tries to kick?"

"She won't kick you and she won't bite. Come on, you have to try it, Fado. Slow and easy."

Link continued to caress the animal's head and the other boy touched her flank, only to drop back when she shifted her foot.

"I…I can't do it! I'm scared!"

The Hylian child let all his breath out in one exasperated huff. "Fado, you have to do it! If your dad comes in here and sees we haven't finished, he'll be mad for thure!"

Fado let out a small, wail-like sound, which would have made him feel utterly ashamed if he hadn't been so afraid. Again he stared at the goat, his eyes wide in all his dread. He then turned his eyes to his friend, who nodded to him. Holding his breath captive in his throat, the larger boy patted the goat's side tentatively, and then reached once more for her teats with fingers that trembled as if with a chill. He had one eye squeezed shut as he painstaking began milking her. Link kept the animal calm and she was very docile all the time it took Fado, at least three times more than an experienced milker would need.

"Th-there," he said, using the back of his hand to swipe at the sweat which drenched his brow. "I-I think that's enough."

"You did such a good job," Link whispered, and first Fado thought it was meant for him rather than the goat.

The younger child let her free then and she wandered to some of her sister goats who were munching away at the hay. Link picked up the bucket with the milk and looked at his friend. Fado was still staring at the animal as she trotted away, as if he couldn't believe what he'd done.

"Do you think you can do it now?" he questioned.

Fado took one long, shuddering breath. "I d-don't know… I guess I can t-try."

Link grinned and then returned to the side of the doe who probably thought he had forgotten her completely. As he leaned into her side so he could reach with his youthfully short arms, his friend followed him and slowly tried to work up to another of the goats waiting next to him. While Fado managed to milk that one more doe, the other boy finished those that remained.

"Ehm, Link?"

The hylian child tilted his head to look at his friend.

"You won't tell anyone about this, will you? Especially my dad."

"I won't tell," Link promised.

The breath Fado had been holding escaped all in a rush. He trembled, more from relief than the fear which didn't have him clutched quite so tightly in its unforgiving claws.

The two boys opened the barn and then transported their buckets of milk to the cool underground cave where the villagers stored their perishables. Juble, wrenching one-handedly at a fence several yards from the barn, saw them and gruffly asked what had taken them so long to finish their task. Fado cast an uncertain glance at Link, but the latter did not disappoint in keeping his word. Both boys replied with a mumbled apology and finished carrying the milk after the rancher's brusque command.

Upon back trudging back up to the ranch, Link noticed that his uncle had moved from his previous spot and was instead in the pasture, crouched next to a familiar goat. The boy's breath caught in his throat that first moment when he wondered what the rancher was doing next to his beloved Fern. As he came nearer, he could also see the much smaller blue head of a kid as it stood on trembling little legs and suckled from the doe.

He sank to his knees and began stroking both Fern and the sweet doeling. He took a peek at the man. "Uncle Juble?"

He grunted. "The mother refused to nurse this little one." Juble rose to his feet, swayed a mite, and put his good arm around the bandaged one. "You have work to do, Link."

The Hylian boy kept quite busy that day, working all morning with the goats, and helping Fado to become a little friendlier with the animals whenever Juble was not watching. Later he trooped back to the village and aided in the planting of the huge pumpkin patch. Ilia found him as he was sweating and bending over the little mounds.

"Hi, Ilie."

"Where did you go this morning, Link?" she queried, a little frown on her lips and her hands on her hips.

He sat back on his haunches and put a hand over his eyes as he glanced up at her. "I just went to see Fern."

"I wanted to come too," she said, a little pout coming over expression.

"Oh. I'm sorry." He jumped to his feet and reached for her hand. "Please don't be mad. I'll bring you next time, okay?"

She did not shrug away from his touch, crusted with soil as it was. She paused and then her face softened. "…Well, okay, only if you promise you won't forget next time."

He nodded, his mouth curving up and into a beaming smile. He crouched and continued with his task.

"Why are you smiling?" she questioned, giving him a look as she too took to her knees and helped him plant the seeds.

And then he explained to her how Juble gave Fern two kids to nurse, the one whose mother would not nurse her, and a small buck whose unfortunate mother had fallen to the claws of the monster the day before. He was properly sober when speaking of the casualty; knowing what the creature had done to a couple of the goats made him wish he was older and could have joined in the hunt. He kept that thought to himself, however, as he knew the mere mention of it to Ilia would cause her to worry and implore him to never do something like that.

The girl's eyes were bright with the enthusiasm which also filled her friend, and she had completely forgotten her previous dissatisfaction. "Ooh, I want to see them too!" she exclaimed and would have clasped her hands in delight if the one was not full of pumpkin seeds. Instead she let the seeds fall to the ground and stood up. "Let's go right now, Link!"

He rose too, though with some hesitancy. "Right now? Are you sure, Ilie?"

"We'll just be a couple minutes," she replied, brushing off her hands.

With one eyebrow still crinkled a bit uncertainly, he began to follow her out of the pumpkin patch. However, they'd only gone a few paces when they caught the attention of Jaggle, who was also working in the field.

"Where are you two off to?"

"We'll be right back, Uncle Jaggle," Ilia said.

The farmer frowned as his eyebrows took a dip over his eyes. "Link, you're supposed to be planting the pumpkins. Don't let me catch you sneaking off again."

"Yes, sir," the boy replied, his shoulders drooping.

"And Ilia, if you're going to help stay with it. You can play later."

She made a similar response as had her friend, and they both trudged back to the spot where they'd been working. Her face was scrunched into a very child-like scowl. "Hmph," she muttered. "We weren't going to play. I only wanted to see the goats!" She was not satisfied until both of them had the opportunity to do just that.

It was Link's fifth year helping plant the village's pumpkins and he did not know to expect anything but the bountiful crop they had known during those other times. As he had the other years, he made at least one trek every day to the patch to see if any of the seeds had sprouted yet. Hyram still made fun of him for so doing, but Link had learned there was only thoughtlessness behind those words.

"You know you want the pumpkins as much as I do," the boy with the pointed ears retorted merrily. "Your mum's pumpkin pie is the best thing in the world!"

The youth rolled his eyes and gave the other child a friendly punch to the shoulder.

Link was bound to be disappointed, though. The growth of those much-cared-for vines began as they should, but the distinct lack of even the slightest precipitation made itself felt through the land before summer was fully upon it. The days were unexpectedly hot early in the season, which only served to further crack the ground and wither much of what grew upon it, whether planted by human hand or not.

Also early in summer was Link's tenth birthday. The villagers were all stressed and anxious about the weather and their crops, so it was something of a relief for everyone to put aside their worries, even for a little bit, in honor of their adopted boy's natal day. Everyone above the age of four had a gift for him, too, whether it was a simple, handmade tool or piece of clothing, or perhaps a few words of felicitations. The meal the ladies prepared was a simple one, as they were wisely cautious of the state of their pantries.

As was their custom on someone's birthday, the children made boats out of wood, bark, animal hide, or whatever else they could scrounge. They placed a lit candle stub in these small vessels and then set them to drifting down the creek which divided the village. Ilia had long been saving a light piece of wood which her father had helped her to better its boat-like form, and it was this which she presented her best friend.

"I hope it floats furthest," she whispered to him.

After setting the vessels free, the children all watched their boats and ran along the shore line to keep them in sight. Hyram's was a sturdy little thing and was caught in the same slight current as Link's. The two tiny vessels bumped each other a few times, causing the watchers to catch their breaths and fear that both boats might capsize. Ilia spared an annoyed look to the elder boy as if he was purposely making his boat operate that way.

The children gave a cheer when Link's vessel, with the lit candle still intact and burning within, kept floating down the creek after Hyram's got caught in some river weeds. If the winning boat belonged to someone other than the birthday child, the victor was expected to hand the right of making a wish to the other child in honor of the day. It was always considered especially good luck, however, if the best boat belonged to the one with the birthday.

Ilia beamed and turned to her friend. "Make a wish, Link!"

"I already did."

Ruben piped up, "What did you wish for, huh, Link?" but the other children knew the tradition and did not question. Those who knew the Hylian boy best could well guess his desire, however.

"I wished for rain," he said the following day, to the one person he was willing to tell.

"Hmph," mumbled the old lady as she ceased her rocking. She fixed the boy with a strangely keen look. "You are better off praying to the goddesses, child, than trusting to wishes. That and trying whatever you can to help yourself and the village."

His eyebrows crinkled. "What do you mean, Granny?"

She only closed her eyes and leaned her head back in her chair, which of late was something she seemed to be doing more, as if she knew there was little left to life. Link went away with a frown puckering his face. He wandered to the pumpkin patch to take a look at the sad, yellowing vines which held stunted pumpkins. He stared long and hard at them, wondering what Granny could possibly expect him to do.

He started, his head flying up and out of his pensiveness. Juble was shouting at him to quit gawking at vegetables that would not grow just by staring at them, and for him to come help Fado with the goats. Link trudged up to the ranch, his mouth still screwed into a frown. He even snapped at his beloved pet when she, still with her adopted daughter by her side, tried to stray away from the others. Fern knocked him aside with one not quite gentle thrust of her head, and continued where she had a mind to go. She slipped easily through the gate, which Fado had left open, and the doeling followed her.

Picking himself up, he ran after her, his angry pride smarting more than anything else. "Come back here!"

He caught up to her only after she reached the village's creek. She bent her marvelously horned head and serenely lapped the clear water with her tongue. Link came up just short of her, his breaths coming in little exasperated gasps, and she raised her dark eyes to look at him.

"Baa-aaaa!" she said, as if she was asking him why he was in such a sweat; all she wanted was a drink.

He stared at her for a long moment, scrunching up his face before he realized what he was doing. Then he let all his breath out in one big sigh, and with it the foul humor he was in. He padded over to her side and caressed her head, his expression forlorn.

"I'm sorry, girl," he whispered, leaning near her ear. "It's not your fault you don't like to drink from that old trough. But the adults don't let us waste any water and it's a lot of work to carry it up to the ranch…"

His words trailed off as he stared at the slow trickle of the creek. Leaning over the surface of the water, he plunged in his hand and drew it out, staring at his dripping fingers. His eyes widened and his mouth curved upwards. Then he hugged Fern, earning a surprised "Baaa-aa!" from her.

When her thirst was satisfied, she willingly followed him up to the ranch again and only stopped to nibble at a bit of half-dried grass. As soon as she was safely back in the pasture, the boy hurried to Juble and eagerly begged him to let him off. When the rancher gave the slow and grudging permission for him to leave, Link dashed off to find the mayor.

"May I please do it, Uncle Bo?" he pleaded after so rapidly explaining his idea that the poor man had a tough time keeping up.

"Slow down, lad, slow down," the leader of the little village told him. "I'll talk to the others and see what they think. For now, get on back to the ranch and help with them goats."

"But…!"

"Link," Mayor Bo warned.

The boy hung his head, his enthusiasm deflating a bit. "Yes, sir," he mumbled, and headed back to the ranch.

A little while later, however, Ilia came trotting up to the pastures and told him that her father gave permission. "What's this all about, Link?" she added onto the end of her message.

Instead of responding, he grinned, grabbed for her hand and began running back toward the village.

The girl, her eyes bright with excitement, stumbled for a few steps and then adjusted her pace to match his. She still thought it was terribly unfair that he was always bigger than she was, but her father always said she had excellent stamina and she had no trouble in keeping up with her best friend. Usually it was he who had to keep up with her and her excited, child-like ideas and ventures.

"Where're we going?" she questioned, a bit breathless this time.

He turned his head briefly and beamed at her again. He popped into one of the outdoor sheds and quickly emerged with a pair of wooden buckets which saw so many uses in the village.

"Come on, this way! To the pumpkin patch!"

The following half hour saw Link laboring tirelessly in hauling water from the stream to the thirsty plants. Ilia helped him as well, and truth be told she spilled more than a little of her water so she could match the number of trips that her friend made. Her father scolded her for the waste when he came by to check on the little project; she promised to be more careful.

Any villager between the age of five and ninety-five at some point or another helped Link carry a few bucketfuls of water and gave him some indication of their encouragement, though the babies were too little and Granny too unsteady. By the blessing of the goddesses, the stream dwindled but never dried up, its source somewhere deep underground.

It was thanks to Link's idea and continual labors to water the patch that the villagers had any pumpkins that year. While the harvest was skimpy and hardly enough to stock the pantries, the bright orange vegetables were the best they could boast, as the other crops were all but killed by the drought. Even the goats' milk was less and there was little extra to go around. There was no trip to any of the other towns to sell produce and cheese that fall.

* * *

 _It will be a little while yet before Link is at the right age when the events of the game start happening. I have more hardships and drama to put these villagers through, more growing on the children's parts. I do hope you enjoy and I will see you later.  
_

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01-18-2018 ~ Published


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